Orenda spent so much time in these various meetings that she did not realize she had left the Emerald Knight out of her sight for over half a day until hunger began to gnaw at her and she asked, in front of the mason’s guild, whom they had more or less dismissed for lack of planning, what time it was.

“Damn near noon,” Mary Sue had replied, “I’m gettin’ right hungry. You wanna pick this back up after lunch?”

“Where’s Klin?” Orenda asked, trying her best to keep the panic out of her voice, but she knew her eyes had shot open wide as she scanned the area in an attempt to pick up the blinding light of his soul. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Mary Sue shrugged, “I ain’t seen him today.”

“I have to find him,” Orenda said, “I have to… to check up on him. He has bouts of melancholy and… I worry.”

That was a perfectly reasonable thing for a person to do, given the cover story. That made perfect sense. That didn’t sound like a lie at all.

“A’ight,” Mary Sue said, “I’ma be in the dinin hall. You gonna find him and come getcha a bite to eat?”

“Yes, that… that sounds lovely,” Orenda said absentmindedly as she made her way out of the throne room, which she had felt was much too big for the private meetings she often had there- it was big enough to hold a ball in- moving toward the back.

Where did he go?

She moved frantically down the servant’s hall, leading herself deeper and deeper into the castle before she finally saw it, glowing faintly, far away, or perhaps hidden behind something- water? Was he still in the bath? Had he been in the bath for half a day?

As she followed his glowing soul she eventually wound around to the large private bathing pool that had been built at Orenda’s request. She needed it, she had insisted, to prove a point. It was easily as large as the one she nearly drowned in as a child, so long ago, the one that had weighed down the magic that flowed through her and over her, that had made her so ill she had lost all sense of direction- but it had not killed her then. And it could not hurt her now.

Queen Orenda Nochdifache-Firefist, Orenda the Reign Ender, The Crimson Mage, was not afraid of water.

She was a pirate.

She had sailed the seas.

And she was not afraid of water.

She collected it in her home.

She threw open the wide doors and marched into the room; the various curtains that could be drawn were fluttering, and she noticed that all the large windows were open, but all the curtains that could be drawn around the various sections of the bath were closed. The stone floor was surprisingly dry; it did not seem anyone had gone into or out of the bath recently.

“Klin?” she called.

There was no response, but she saw his soul, burning brightly behind the series of curtains; he was apparently on the opposite side, the deepest part of the pool which could, if one had the inclination, be dove into without risk of injury.

“Klin!” She tried again, finding it odd that he wasn’t answering her. He was many things, had a great many evils, but he always came when called, like a trained dog.

The curtains moved in the breeze, but Klin’s soul stayed in the same spot.

Orenda felt goosebumps moving up and down her legs; there was no reason he should not come when called.

She picked up the pace and the sounds of the outside world fell away; she realized that there was no sound of motion in the water, only the gentle rustling of the curtains across its surface, but no water hitting the stone wall as if a person were moving, as if a person were breathing. The sound of her boots against the stone floor was somehow unbearably loud, and she found herself wondering if she had still had a heart, would she have been able to hear it in her ears?

She threw open the curtains that would have covered him, but he was not there.

She looked down, and saw that the green light emanated from his motionless form- lying under the water. His large, blue eyes were open, staring at the ceiling as if they could still see, but he was lying at least twelve feet under the still water, with his arms outstretched, and Orenda’s mind formed an instant, comforting thought.

He’s finally done it.

“Klin!” she shouted.

Those large blue eyes twitched.

Then moved to look at her.

It was so unsettling and startled her so that her body made an involuntary step back, and it threw off her balance so that she teetered on her feet-

Throw the book, she thought, I can’t get the book wet.

I am not going to die today.

She did not realize she had shouted until she saw Klin dart up, moving through the water like he had been born and bred for it, and in an instant he was beside her, pulling himself onto the stone floor and coughing; more water poured from him with the strength of these spasms than Orenda thought would fit into his small body.

“What… what’s…” he asked between his fits in tight, raspy breaths, “att-tack-ing…”

“Where have you been?” Orenda asked.

“Are… you… safe?” Klin asked, bracing himself on his forearms, and Orenda thought of how much the position looked like a bow.

“Are you dying?” She asked.

“Nah… I just gotta…” Klin was overtaken by a particularly hard spasm, then sucked in a deep breath of air, “just gotta get the water outta my lungs. I do that ever time.”

He finally turned to look up at her and asked, “Ya’ alright? Why’d ya scream?”

“Because I had lost sight of the Emerald Knight for hours upon hours and the prospect filled me with rage!” Orenda said, then remembered the open windows, drew back and gazed out each and every one of them.

She did not like the prospect of servants.

“Oh… yeah, I… I get that…” Klin said, still on his hands and knees over the puddle he had coughed up. Whatever had come over him to propel him through the water so quickly had apparently faded, and Orenda thought she could see his brain working like the gears in one of Junior’s clockwork inventions.

His entire body turned a shade of red, like earth elves and other light skinned creatures do when they get a sunburn, and he turned and dove back into the water; this time he didn’t seem to be trying to dive down, he was swimming away from her, behind the many curtains that criss-crossed the pools.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Orenda snarled.

“Is… is that a real question or…” Klin asked; apparently he had stopped in the middle of the pool.

“Yes! What the hell are you doing? I haven’t time for this! I have things to do!”

“I’m tryin to get behind somethin!” Klin said quickly and with much more force than Orenda was accustomed to hearing from him, “I’m naked!”

The glow of his soul flared up with some sort of intense emotion, and the situation, combined with his accent, which made the word sound much more like ‘nekked’ was so ridiculous that, despite her best efforts, Orenda could not stifle a laugh.

“It ain’t funny!” Klin protested.

“It certainly isn’t,” Orenda agreed, “what were you doing?”

“I dunno,” Klin said, “thinkin’, I guess. I lost track a’ time or… somethin. I been here. I swear I been here. I didn’t do nothin.”

“I mean,” Orenda explained, “what were you doing at the bottom of the pool?”

“I dunno,” Klin repeated, “thinkin’?”

“Underwater?”

“I do a lotta my thinkin’ underwater,” Klin said, “ain’t nobody else goes under there, most a’ the time. I don’t reckon they can breath. A lotta folks drown, they try an do that.”

His glowing soul moved as if he was swimming to the other side of the pool.

“That’s an accurate appraisal,” Orenda said, “when I find myself underwater I evaporate it away.”

“Can’t ya swim?” Klin asked.

“I’ve never cared much for sports,” Orenda said.

“Really?” Klin asked, “I love ta’ swim. My… my teacher… when I was a youngun in the Military Academy… said I swum like a fish.”

“That’s lovely,” Orenda said meaning the opposite, “did you at least take a bath?”

“Yeah,” Klin said quietly and she heard the clinking of a belt of some sort sliding into place, “I… I washed my hair real good, too… I even put the conditioner in it an’ everythin… maybe that’ll put some moisture back in it so it don’t feel like it’s gotta make so much oil. I used ta… try and do the tea thing? The astringent tea thing? S’Sposed to keep it from gettin’ so greasy but it… it wouldn’t never gonna be, ya know, pretty. Not like a noble… it is what it is…”

“I’ve never cared much for beauty,” Orenda said.

“You ain’t got to,” Klin mumbled, “you ain’t… didn’t watch a parade a’... perfect… gorgeous…”

Orenda walked slowly around the pool, running her hand across the curtains as he spoke, thinking that it was, perhaps, the most she had ever heard him speak sober.

“Little nobles with their titles… an’ their money… an’ their fancy learnin… an their eyes the right color… an’ their… grown ass lookin… hair with body what don’t just… look like a…”

Orenda turned the corner and saw Klin standing in his ridiculous old clothes that many of the nobility still wore, his long tunic belted at the waist with his ancient, magical bag, trying to clasp his left glove with his right hand, his non-dominant hand, she noticed, like Gareth. Except he still had both.

“Fucking bog monster!” Klin shouted; there were tears in his eyes and his hands were shaking too fiercely for him to be able to tie his glove, “While you sit there thinkin’, ‘Ain’t y’all kin? Why you doin this? Ain’t y’all cousins?’ But still they… they’re real nobles… they belong in a castle… they ain’t pretendin… they know… they know they belong there an’ you don’t… they know what’cha are… just another rock to hold a sword… just the thing to hold the sword… comin in here with all their fancy presents… you wanna win the princess? The secret is rocks.” He laughed with no mirth, and the tears leaking down his face annoyed Orenda, as did his long, wet hair that was leaking down his back and soaking the tunic, and likely the shirt he wore under it.

“Give me that!” she demanded and grabbed his hand to lace up the glove, “I haven’t time for this nonsense.”

“Sorry,” Klin said, standing there with his hand out like a child who had been caught at something he knew he deserved scolding for. “Sorry… I just… I can’t get that sword outta my head… it’s… crowded in here…”

“Comb your hair and meet me in the dining hall,” Orenda told him, “I need to know where you are, Klin. I can’t have you running amok.”

“I can’t either,” Klin admitted, flexing the fingers of his hand, touching each of them to the thumb once she returned it to him, “at least I ain’t got much ‘a my mind left to lose. Goddamn… I’m so old… I’m too old for this shit… too old to be actin like this… I’m sorry, your majesty.”

“You apologise so frequently as to render it meaningless,” Orenda said. “Get presentable and come to the dining hall.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Klin placed one hand over his heart and the other in the small of his back and bowed to her.

Orenda turned to make her way out of the room and did not see him scratching frantically at the leather covering the palm of his left hand.