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He's just a child, Vinanna, they've already erased his memory once. Look at him. Must we really put him through that again?
You know the terms of the pact as well as I do, Beldaruit. Exceptions require a very good reason.
And taking pity on the fact the poor boy already has no memories isn't one?
No. But that doesn't mean there are no good reasons. In this case, at least.
Care to enlighten me?
I believe he may prove useful.
Easthies didn't know who was talking, or what they meant. He didn't know much of anything, really, but if he thought about it very carefully, he could at least be certain about two things: the searing pain beneath his tongue, and his name. He had tried to say it when asked, but all he could manage was a fearful whimper and spitting up a mouthful of blood. And then another when he tried to apologise. If he tried to dig for more thoughts, his head ached.
It was like there was a hole in his brain that had swallowed everything before yesterday. The first thing he could remember was the birds overhead in a gap of sky just visible through threadbare thatch. His tongue hurt then, too, and his mouth tasted of metal. He'd wanted to go home, but when he tried to picture home, he couldn't. That scared him, and he remembered then how alone he'd felt; how small.
Curled up on thin sheets, all he had to keep him company were the hole in the ceiling, the taste of blood in his mouth. And the two voices that whispered to each other, their owners just out of sight. They'd spoken fearfully of knights in the area, but their words meant nothing to him.
He sat now on clean, white bedsheets. The hole in the ceiling was nowhere to be seen, and the voices that spoke were not the two he had heard yesterday. Their heads were bowed as they whispered, but Easthies could still hear every word.
"Useful how, Vinanna? I hope you would not seek to burden this child any further. Even if that is a truth seal beneath his tongue, with no memories he won't be able to tell us anything."
"Perhaps not, but a knight whose loyalty may never be called into question is beyond valuable."
It was quiet for a moment, then two sets of eyes turned to Easthies. He saw them only from the corner of his eye, and didn't stare back as they turned from him again, and their voices lowered further until they were too quiet for him to hear.
A couple of years later.
Snow fell heavily in Ghodrey that afternoon. Easthies had made the mistake of landing in it. The hem of his cloak dragged in the drifts, collecting crystals which melted and soaked into his robes. Compared to the thick, fur trimmed woollens and heavy boots he'd seen on the townsfolk, his own clothing made him feel underdressed. Though his cloak was woollen too, it was untrimmed, and its silk lining did little to stave off the chill.
Vinanna had been called out to an emergency, and they'd both left in such a hurry that neither had time to change into something more appropriate. She didn't look to be affected by the cold, or if she was she didn't show it, but it pierced its way through the fabric and settled in Easthies' bones.
He didn't want to be in Ghodrey, but then, he didn't really want to be back in the great hall either. At least it was quieter here. The snow had muffled the sounds of the forest, and as he stood beneath the trees, it sounded like when he pressed his palms to his ears and listened to the blood rush in his head. Vinanna's voice was far away, and the noises of the town even further. The only thing that broke the peace was a twig breaking, somewhere just behind.
"You're one of the great hall witches, right?" A grinning face stared at him, with cheeks pink from the cold and snow dusting his red hair. He looked to be about the same age as Easthies, maybe a year or two younger. "I'm Utowin."
"Oh." Easthies stared back. "Yes. Easthies."
"Nice, nice. So are you here because of…uh…" Utowin hesitated, toeing the snow with his boot. "Whatever it is that happened."
"I don't know. Master Vinanna wouldn't tell me. She just said it was an emergency."
"Oh. Yeah, they wouldn't tell me either. Looks bad though." Utowin pulled a face, mouth turned down in the corners in an exaggerated fashion. "So you're an apprentice in the great hall? What's that like? No one's taken me on yet so…"
Easthies raised his eyes up towards the sky. White clouds blanketed everything, giving the appearance of an endless void. No birds flew overhead, but he felt a familiar throb in his tongue as he tried to say 'it's fine' like he was supposed to. No words came out. 'I'm grateful.' Nothing.
"I want to be left alone."
"Oh." Utowin raised his hands as if in apology, and took a step backwards. "Jeez, sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"No," Easthies said. "You asked how it is being an apprentice. I want them to leave me alone. I don't like it. I didn't mean you."
Utowin gave a wide smile and rubbed his hand through his hair, sending flakes of snow flying off around him. "Oh good! I mean, good you didn't mean me. Not good you don't like it. Why not?"
'It's nothing, it's fine. Forget I said anything.' In the usual fashion, the words he wanted to say failed him.
"I freeze when I try to draw spells and I don't know why. It's like my hand remembers something I don't. Master Vinanna says it doesn't really matter if I am to become a knight anyway, but…"
"But it sucks when everyone else can do it and you can't." Utowin screwed his face up as he spoke. "Yeah, I get that."
"I'm sorry to have burdened you."
"Hey! I asked!" It appeared as though Utowin was trying to place another grin onto the one he already wore. "Ok, I've got another question. What's brown and sticky?"
Easthies stared blankly. "Syrup?"
Utowin bent down to pick something up, then thrust his hand forward as he spoke. He held the twig he'd broken as he approached a few minutes earlier. "A stick! Get it? Brown and sticky."
"A stick?" Easthies repeated. For the first time since arriving in Ghodrey, a smile broke out across his face, followed by one brief snort of laughter. "That's so dumb."
"Yeah, but it got you to smile so it can't be all bad."
"I didn't say it was bad I said it was dumb. But…" Easthies' eyes were drawn to the trees in the distance, where Vinanna was signalling for them to move on. "I should be going. I think I'm needed."
"Good luck!" Utowin called after him. "Must be nice to be useful, at least!"
Nice to be useful… Easthies had never thought of it that way before. He'd never been allowed to be anything else. Vinanna had made it quite clear: he was only her apprentice because the truth seal on his tongue meant he could be trusted. If not for that, he'd have had his memory erased again and would have been sent on to Adanlee. In return he had to make himself useful. The eyes of the order where they were least expected.
When she asked him a question, he had no choice but to answer honestly. What he'd seen, what he'd heard, who he'd spoken to, who had spoken to him, what they'd said, anything suspicious, anything of concern. He was grateful, really, that Utowin hadn't said anything of any importance. When Vinanna asked, he could tell her the joke, and that would be that.
He turned back to Utowin, and waved.
A few years later.
It was only a minor injury; a cut on Easthies' arm that would heal by itself within a few days. Nothing out of the ordinary for a bout of spear practice, and nothing he hadn't experienced before. Still, Utowin had insisted on dragging him to the healing spire to have it seen to.
"I know you'll just leave it otherwise. And then I'll feel bad if it rots because it was my fault it happened," he grumbled as he sat on the bench beside Easthies.
They had been told it would only be a short wait for one of the doctors to be free, and Utowin had filled almost the entire time with a slightly one sided conversation. Though the room was clean and plain, and filled with an astringent smell Easthies quite liked, he couldn't relax. He never liked anyone looking too closely at him for fear of what they'd find. The seal on his tongue had long since scarred, and one overzealous doctor would find it with ease.
"It was not your fault," Easthies said. "As I told you before."
"Yeah you say that, but it was my spear. I should have been paying more attention."
"And I should have been quicker in my reactions."
"Still," Utowin groaned and leaned back so that his head pressed against the stone wall and he stared up at the ceiling. "I should have noticed that. I just didn't mean to hurt you, you know?"
"I know. And I don't blame you, so don't feel bad."
"Yeah but…" He sat up again, leaning forward with his elbows propped up on his knees. "Ugh. You always say stuff like that."
"And have I ever lied to you?"
He'd not yet told Utowin about the seal, but that didn't mean he'd never noticed his bluntness. It wasn't an easy thing to raise. He meant to, one day, but the opportunity never seemed to arise.
"No," Utowin conceded. "Fine. I'll agree it's not my fault, but you can't stop me feeling bad about it."
They settled into a comfortable silence after that, and Easthies found his attention drifting to a conversation happening nearby. One witch, injured, was holding an ice pack to her bandaged shoulder. The other, stood by her bedside, was muttering grimly.
"But if it's causing you pain still, I don't understand why it's such an issue. Surely spells to knit bone together exist. It's not a difficult concept."
"Hush, dear. You never know who's listening."
"I don't care. I'm not doing anyone any harm just by asking."
Easthies froze, and hoped the conversation would have faded from his mind by the time he next saw Vinanna. Such a thing was dangerous to say, even if there were no plans to act on it.
In a way, Easthies envied those who sat with their doubts—he couldn't allow himself that same luxury. His tongue would betray him if he had anything but full faith in the pact, so he gave himself to unquestioning devotion. It was the only kind that would keep him safe. No straying, no wondering 'what if.' He knew when he took his role as a full member of the Knights Moralis he would need that faith to guide him to act decisively, and to give Vinanna no reason to doubt the exception made for him. If his loyalty to the pact wavered in any way, he would lose himself entirely.
He'd never spoken those fears aloud. Instead he buried them deeply enough to suffocate them, silence them, until all that was left was full belief in the pact and why it was needed. There was no room to listen to the arguments of those who found it unfair or unjust. It was simply his duty.
"You alright Eas? You've gone pale."
Easthies said nothing. He couldn't risk it. Utowin would doubtless worry it was the wound, but he'd have to accept that confusion. It was safer than naming his concerns.
Years later.
"And you had no idea these contraptions concealed such a spell?" Easthies asked, keeping his tone dispassionate.
"No, I swear.” The shopkeeper’s voice sounded sincere. “Witches bring small batches of contraptions they want me to sell all the time, and he only demonstrated the lantern use for these. There was no reason not to trust him."
It was an easy enough claim to believe. The rings Easthies held in his hand, the confiscated contraptions, each bore half a simple floatglow lamp seal on their topside. They'd been sold as Travellers' Rings, for those travelling at night to light their way when there was no other alternative.
The issue was the hidden pyreball seal that lay underneath, and sent a burst of flame onto the wearer's hands if worn in the wrong way. Neither spell was forbidden in isolation, but the danger posed by the contraption pulled it into that realm.
Vinanna watched from behind her desk; hands clasped, chin resting on them. She said nothing as she watched, but Easthies knew she was judging everything he said and every decision he made. She would tell him how she'd have handled the situation afterwards, but would give no indication of her thoughts until then.
It was his lot as her deputy, she'd said. One day he would be the final voice in matters that concerned the Knights Moralis, and he needed to be sure of himself long before then. Though he did suspect there was more to it: she was watching to see if he'd ever slip. Leniency where none should be offered, wavering in the face of forbidden magic. Any reason to doubt her decision years before.
"I'll retain these, of course, and will have them further analysed," Easthies said. He plucked two sheets of tissue from the desk and wrapped each ring individually, then placed them in his pocket. "Now, show me your hands."
The shopkeeper pulled back his sleeve to reveal one hand uninjured, and the other tightly bound in a bandage. Still, that wasn't proof enough of ignorance—someone duplicitous enough to have crafted the rings could bind a hand to feign injury and innocence as well. Easthies had to be entirely sure before he made any decisions.
"Can you remove the bandage?"
With a scowl, the shopkeeper unfurled the cloth to reveal an angry looking burn scar, still weeping in some places. It looked painful enough for Easthies' mind to be put at ease. Surely he wouldn't inflict that upon himself.
"Your shop will be closed for a month while the order searches for any more contraptions hiding harmful secrets, and the entire ring stock will be seized. You will provide all you know of the man who supplied these rings."
"A month?"
"Be glad it isn't longer, given the serious questions this raises about your judgement. I am satisfied that you knew nothing of this particular case, but we will reassess if any further dangerous contraptions are found. We'll also require the entire list of your sales to track down anyone who bought this ring."
"This is ridiculous. I'm the victim here, I reported this! Why am I being punished?"
Easthies' hand tightened instinctively, as if to grip his spear, but it was propped against the wall at the other end of the room so instead he ended up piercing the skin of his palm with his nails. He had full faith in his judgement being correct, just as he had his faith in the pact. To be questioned in such a way infuriated him.
"Your actions were negligent at best. Do you know how many could have been injured? And if you were derelict in your duties here, then where else besides?" Easthies continued on past the shopkeeper's attempted interruptions. "Now leave, before you learn that my leniency has its limits."
As the door clicked shut leaving Easthies and Vinanna alone, he let out a disapproving tut.
"You did the right thing," Vinanna said. There was no hint of approval or warmth in her voice. Unimpassioned judgement: the quality she often said all knights must strive to uphold.
"I'm aware. Too many assume their responsibilities in abiding by the terms of the pact extend only to avoiding forbidden acts themselves. They don't consider that ignorance can allow the proliferation of forbidden magic as well."
He'd spent so long with those thoughts, repeating their laws until they'd seared themselves into his brain and left no room for doubts or wavering. The words could only leave his tongue if he believed them to be true, and so in saying them aloud he proved his loyalty. Just as he always had, just as he always would.
Vinanna smiled. "Spoken less like my apprentice and more as my deputy each day."
Night had fallen hours ago, but the murky depths of the ocean beyond the window looked the same as ever. Easthies only knew the hour by the chiming of the clock for midnight, and the near emptiness of the Knights Moralis' headquarters. Only he remained, with his head buried in a seemingly endless pile of paperwork, and Utowin, tapping out rhythm after rhythm on the furniture.
"You know," Easthies said, looking up from a sheet of paper. "You're under no obligation to stay this late."
"I know. But what else am I gonna do? Luluci is busy this evening and Galga is off somewhere or another, and even the twins have plans."
"So bothering me is your last resort." The thought had come to Easthies somewhat flippantly, but the fact he could say it aloud meant there must be some part of him that believed it.
"Oh, you think this is me bothering you?" Utowin grinned and marched toward Easthies' desk before he could protest, leant over the back of his chair and flopped forwards so that his chin was resting on Easthies’ shoulder and his arms hung over his chest. "This is me bothering you."
Easthies' throat tightened. It wasn't that he disliked this sort of proximity with Utowin—the opposite, in fact, he loved both the soap clean scent of his skin and the stale cigarette smoke on his breath—but more that he feared getting so close would make it harder to conceal his scarred tongue. Utowin still didn't know. Easthies searched for any excuse that might rebuff him, while also being truthful.
"This will make it difficult to finish my paperwork."
"There's always tomorrow."
"When there will be more paperwork."
"Hmm." Utowin made a noise as if considering the point, but didn't leave. Instead he shifted his head so that his lips were brushing Easthies' face. "Shame," he said as he planted a kiss on his cheek, then another on his jaw, then leant over until he'd nearly reached his lips.
Easthies jerked his head away. It always happened like this. As much as he wanted Utowin to continue, he'd feel his scarred tongue soon enough if he did.
"Sorry," Utowin pulled back immediately. "Was that too far? I didn't mean to get carried away."
"No, you didn't. I wish we could continue."
"Yeah." Utowin gave a nervous laugh. "What is it? Is my breath too bad?"
"No, no, it's..." nothing. Easthies' tongue refused the lie. It's nothing. Don't worry about it. It's fine. "There are things I would rather no one knew."
"Oh, you have bad breath? Your secret is safe with me, Eas."
"You know I trust you with my life, more than anyone else, yes?"
Utowin nodded, "So you've said."
"No, I need you to keep that in mind."
Easthies was no stranger to fear. It had been his closest companion as long as he could remember: the fear of what was done to him, the fear of discovery, the fear of his tongue betraying him or his mind betraying him first, the fear of losing everything—his memories—again. Next to that, the fear of Utowin knowing seemed to pale in comparison. But his stomach still roiled when he thought of it. He'd come close so many times, and always lost his nerve at the last minute.
He opened his mouth. If he could say it aloud, he'd know what he truly wanted.
"I'd like to show you something."
There were no words that would easily explain it, so he didn't bother to try. He stuck his tongue out. An undignified gesture, and the suddenness of it made Utowin laugh, though the sound quickly died away as he noticed the seal. He recoiled slightly.
"Eas…" Concern tinged with reproach. "You wouldn't—"
"I did not. This was done to me as a child."
"I'm not sure I even recognise the sigil," Utowin said, taking Easthies' chin in one hand, turning his face toward him and pulling his tongue back out to get a better view. "Something to do with speech? Wait… jeez, is that a truth seal? I've never actually seen one."
"It is."
"Eas, we've erased memories for less."
"Mine had already been erased when I was found. And if I can't lie, Vinanna thought me more useful here."
"What, as a deputy who can't betray her?" Utowin scoffed.
"A knight whose loyalty is never in question, that was how Vinanna phrased it." Easthies said, then added. "I feel no remorse for any of my actions, before you ask. Everything I do is in accordance with the pact, even scarred like this."
Easthies shifted in his chair to better see Utowin, and though it left them both in an awkward half-perched position, they could at least see eye to eye. There was discomfort on Utowin's knitted brow.
"I'll let you finish off here," he said, before stepping outside.
Easthies' stomach spent the next two hours turning over itself. He'd kept his secret from everyone, except Vinanna. It wasn't an easy sight and he had anticipated at least an awkward joke or two from Utowin, but he'd never seen him recoil like that before. Easthies was well aware he was not an easy person to know. He expected he'd be that much harder to love, too, which is why he'd never asked for it. But Utowin had never once looked at him with the same distaste others did. Not until now.
Still, eventually he'd finished everything and could return to his quarters. It would be a meagre night of sleep, but he'd take what he could get, if he could get any. Or he had assumed he would, until he found Utowin crouched next to the door. He stood as Easthies approached, and spoke before he could be interrupted.
"I've thought about it," he said, voice full of determination. "And I've been by your side this long without ever doubting you. Whatever someone did to you in the past…well I shouldn't give a shit. It doesn't change anything. You're the same Eas you've always been. As long as I know I can trust you—"
Easthies made as if to speak, but was interrupted by Utowin shaking his head. "No, let me finish. When you say you trust me with your life it's not an exaggeration or just what you think I want to hear?"
"It's the truth," Easthies said. "But I'd rather we discuss this further inside."
But there was no further discussion. Utowin threw his arms around Easthies the moment the door clicked shut behind them. This time Easthies didn't pull away as Utowin's lips approached his, but met them, yielding, though he feared slightly chapped. If they were, Utowin didn't seem to mind.
There was a messy urgency to Utowin's technique that was about as unrefined as Easthies had expected, and hoped. When Utowin's tongue brushed against the scarred mess that was his own, there was no fear. Hands in Easthies' hair, stroking the back of his neck, his chest, reaching lower until Utowin pulled away. A string of saliva still hung between their lips.
"Sorry. Got carried away again."
"No, continue. I hadn't expected I would sleep much tonight anyway."
The aftermath of Silver Eve
"And if I had come with Vinanna and tried to stop you, would you have done it to me too?"
Utowin should have known when he'd asked that of course the answer was yes. It could never have been anything but yes. And yet he'd still asked, and he'd still been offended by the truth.
What happened on Silver Eve was unfortunate, but it had been necessary. Everyone there had been witness to actions that put the stability and the sanctity of the pact at risk. Easthies had acted in accordance with his duties. It wasn't right or wrong, and there was no room to be discerning in whose memory he erased. It was a matter of necessity. That was all. If he'd ignored it, his own loyalties could have been called into question.
And yet, he had acted, and his loyalty had still been called into question.
The words that had followed were a blur. Easthies had never heard Utowin quite so angered, and he'd answered the only way he'd been able to. With the truth, as uncomfortable as it was to hear. His life was one of duty and obligation. He did not have the luxury to pick and choose when he obeyed the pact and when he saw exceptions.
Utowin should have known. Vinanna should have known. And yet she'd stripped him of his role and his purpose for doing what was expected of him.
And now he was alone with his thoughts aflame in his head. His quarters felt smaller than he'd ever known them, and he hadn't managed to bring himself to clean in days. Papers were strewn across the desk, and spilled onto the floor, his bedsheets were wrinkled, and if it hadn't been for Utowin, he'd have had plates stacked amongst the mess as well.
"Forgive me, Utowin." He'd never meant for the truth to hurt him, now, or with anything else he might yet need to do.
He groaned and flopped himself onto his unmade bed; unwashed hair draped across the pillow and his robes tangled about him. From where he lay he could just see out of the window. There were no birds this deep beneath the ocean, but if he didn't stare too closely then the fish swimming by could almost trick his eye.
For the first time in many years, his mind returned to the room in which they'd found him; he was a child then, blameless and so alone. He was alone again now, but his actions had been his own and he would claim them. He had no other choice.