Water Kanin: Chapter 49 - A Conversation

As Zyneth leaves, he rests a hand on his dagger, nervously drumming his fingers over the hilt. I anxiously watch as they round the corner of a building and pass out of sight. I guess that’s it. Nothing I can do now but twiddle my non-existent thumbs. Likewise, I can feel Zyneth continuing to nervously drum his fingers on his knife, each tap vibrating through the blade.

Wait.

I can feel it!

He has my obsidian dagger. He taps the blade again, and I grab the Attuned glass, wiggling it slightly. He stops drumming. I activate my sense of hearing in the blade.

“—each other for a while, then.”

“Yes, my lord,” Zyneth says. “Almost as long as he’s been in our world.”

“How well do you know him?”

Zyneth is quiet for a moment. I wish I could see their faces, but the blade of his knife is hidden in its sheath. At least I have this much. I hope they don’t leave my range.

“I know him quite well,” he says softly. “I’ve spent more time with him than some of my own family. Though it’s not yet been a year, we’ve been through much together.”

“You trust him?”

“With my life,” Zyneth says. “Repeatedly.”

Blair is silent for a moment, and a few seconds later, their footsteps stop. I hope they’ve found somewhere to settle down and talk for a while.

“How did you meet?” Blair asks.

“I was on my way back from a job,” he says. “Searching for an item rumored lost in the Black Spire. I happened upon Kanin by accident while I was on the road. He was looking for a wizard to help with his body. Or, lack thereof. I helped him restore his friend’s soul to her body instead.”

“Noli,” Blair says.

Zyneth sounds surprised. “Yes, my lord.”

I probably should have been using more honorifics when I was talking to her, huh?

“Have you encountered his remnant?” Blair asks, abruptly switching topics.

“Forgive me,” he says. “Remnant?”

“The entity that has infected his soul.”

That’s a lovely way of putting it.

“Ah,” Zyneth says. “Yes. Many times.”

“Kanin claims it isn’t dangerous. Is this true?”

There’s a long pause, and I wince.

“It is dangerous,” Zyneth finally says. My soul sinks. “It’s killed at least three people that I know of. And attempted to kill several more.”

“Then you understand why I must keep it contained,” Blair says.

“Wait, please. There is more I would like to say.”

After a moment, Blair says, “Go ahead.”

“It’s also killed dozens of animals and beasts.”

Not helping, Zyneth!

“Including quite a number of fish that it brought back for me to eat,” Zyneth says. “We were marooned in a submarine and running out of supplies. Kanin and Ink worked in tandem to hunt for food while also defending our vessel from any sea beasts that targeted us.”

“You say Kanin worked in tandem with his remnant,” Blair says. “Explain what you mean by this.”

Zyneth hesitates. “It’s hard to describe. Sometimes it seems like one is more in control than the other. They’re less communicative. More violent. Also far more in tune with their magic, allowing them to move their body with significantly increased control. They will frequently alter their shape. The void acts as a sort of layer of skin over their glass, adding extra details. Like suspending shards of glass in the vague shape of teeth or claws. Sometimes they form extra limbs, like those of an octopus. The more danger we’re in, the less humanoid the form tends to become. It’s those times that Ink—the remnant—seems most in control. It’s those times I believe there is the highest risk for casualties.”

Listening to all this second-hand is uncomfortable. I’m not entirely aware of the form we take when Ink is sharing control. It just doesn’t seem as important; I’m too focused on whatever obstacle we’re dealing with than what our body looks like. I mean, I’m aware when we form claws or extra limbs, but only as it’s relevant to what we’re trying to do. It usually isn’t until we’ve separated again that I’m aware of how disturbing our form might have been.

“You understand how this is not making a strong case for his freedom,” Blair says.

“I understand how it looks,” Zyneth agrees. “However I wanted to provide full context before making my point.

“When we first met, after the remnant took those first three lives—and to my knowledge, the only three people it has killed to date—Kanin asked me to stop him if I ever believed he posed a risk to others. He asked me to kill him before allowing him to kill someone else. It wouldn’t be difficult; his core is very fragile.

“To this day, I have never felt a need to follow through on that promise,” Zyneth says. “There was one moment, several months ago, when they threatened an individual who had attacked us. I called for them to stop, and they did.”

“You see yourself as his personal guardian,” Blair surmises. “He asked you for this, and you feel responsible to keep watch over him.”

Is that true? I’d never meant to put that kind of pressure on him. Is that why he kept coming back to check on me when I was staying with Noli? Is that why he’s let me accompany him on all his jobs? Easier to keep an eye on me when I’m close by.

No, no. I can’t let myself think that way. He wanted to start this relationship. He wouldn’t have done that out of some sense of duty.

My soul aches all the same.

“I do feel dedicated to him,” Zyneth admits. “And I think it started from feeling a certain level of responsibility. But over time, it’s shifted. It’s a mutual dedication. A mutual… fondness.” He nervously fiddles with the hilt of his blade. “To have been through as much as he has—to have had your life, your body, your mind taken from you, and to continue forward anyway, to risk everything for the wellbeing of a friend—that’s admirable. And since then, we’ve each saved each other, many times over.”

His words hurt, but in a good way. The best kind of way. I’m overcome with an urge to wrap him in a hug. To just be close. To be able to lean against him, and have him lean against me.

I think I…

“You care for him very much, don’t you?” Blair asks.

Zyneth laughs quietly. “Yes. I am not here to tell you he’s perfect—gods know he’s not. But which one of us is? We’ve all got skeletons in our closet. At least he’s out there trying to face his.”

“That is commendable,” Blair agrees. “But it’s not enough to convince me he isn’t a threat.”

“I understand,” Zyneth says. “And forgive me for assuming, but it’s not Kanin you’re worried about, is it? You’re worried about Ink.”

“As far as I am concerned, the two are one and the same,” Blair says. “While you may argue one or the other is in control at different times, the two are inextricably linked.”

“Then allow me to address the root of your concern,” Zyneth says. Blair doesn’t reply in any way that I can hear, so Zyneth continues. “I mentioned before that it has killed many creatures. And not all of these were in self-defense or to provide me food. Some, as far as I can tell, were hunted purely for sport. Before Ink chose this name for itself, Kanin and I referred to the creature as ‘the predator.’”

“An accurate descriptor,” Blair murmurs. The comment is so quiet, I almost wonder if it was more said to herself than Zyneth.

“I don’t believe there is any sense in lying to you about this,” Zyneth says. “It does seem to have some inherent instinct to hunt. It appears to enjoy fights, and it especially enjoys winning.

“However, I want to emphasize that the predator we first encountered is not the same entity I know today. Kanin has been able to reason with it. It no longer drains all his magic or attacks without cause. It’s learned restraint. They even established a compromise whereupon Ink would be permitted more freedom half of the day on the condition it didn’t enact any influence on Kanin for the other half. More recently, they seem to merge and unmerge as situations arise. They’re working together.

“We have spent the last few months living in cities, surrounded by people. Thousands of people. Maybe a hundred thousand. Not once do I believe Ink has posed a danger to someone we’ve encountered. Instead, they leave the city each night when it’s Ink’s turn to roam. They have had plenty of opportunity to hunt people, and have chosen not to. Its violent instincts have been channeled toward predatorial beasts; to protect me and other friends. And just before you arrived, it was fighting with the creature that Yedzaquib eventually absorbed. Another remnant, as I understand it. Ink could have chosen to finish it off, but it didn’t. It stepped away, without anyone asking it to. If this remnant was incapable of rational thought, none of this would be possible. Kanin is changing it. It’s learning.”

Ink ruffles indignantly at Zyneth’s claim. It doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I am not changing it. It is still itself. Its hunger hasn’t diminished; I just have more mana to give it, now. It hasn’t become less violent; it just hasn’t needed to kill anyone recently. It hasn’t made any compromises with me; if anything, it’s gotten me to concede half of my time.

Methinks the lady doth protest too much, I think, faintly amused.

Ink doesn’t understand what I mean, but bristles at my teasing tone.

Calm down, I tell it, sending it placating feelings. Tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night. Just don’t voice those objections aloud.

“This is all quite the claim,” Blair finally says after Zyneth’s speech. “But it’s not up to me to decide Kanin and the remnant’s fate.”

Shit. My soul sinks.

But Zyneth doesn’t seem deterred. “With respect, Lord Blair. If you never intended to make a decision about what to do with them, then I do not believe you would have bothered to speak with me.”

Hah! You’re damn right. He’s so goddamn smart.

Then, Zyneth’s hand tightens on the blade.

“Are you questioning me, mortal?” Blair’s voice is suddenly icy cold.

What? No—what’s going on? I try to edge the blade out of Zyneth’s sheath, so I can get a look at what’s happening, but he resists my nudge, keeping the dagger sheathed. Ink perks up at my alarm, trying to follow what I’m hearing.

“No,” Zyneth quickly says. “I apologize. I should not have presumed.”

“You should learn your place,” Blair snaps. “Perhaps you need a reminder.”

No! Where is this coming from? Why is she threatening him all of a sudden? It was going so well! Ink swirls around our enclosure in agitation, pressing at the barrier once more. It hates being caged and helpless. We have to help him!

Still fighting Zyneth’s attempt to keep the knife sheathed, I push the blade out, just an inch. It’s not enough to see much, but it’s enough to catch sight of Blair, eyes and skin glowing with ethereal light, hand raised toward Zyneth.

Shit!

I jerk the knife out of his sheath, ready to throw it at Blair if I have to. It’s the only thing I can do. The only way I can help. Zyneth’s hand tightens on the blade. “Wait—”

Ink’s claw catches on something. A soft spot in the shield. It presses harder, and stabs a glass claw through.

Do it! I think, throwing all our glass and void at the weak spot. Now!

Blair’s hand flashes white.

We burst through the shield, shattering the orange barrier like a stained-glass window. Honing in on Zyneth’s dagger, we rocket toward the fight. He’s only one building over. We’ll be there in seconds. We hope it’s enough—

We round the corner to find Blair’s hand still raised, Zyneth still grappling with his knife. We throw ourself in front of him, rising up and bristling into the most imposing form our void and broken glass allows. We wrap a limb behind us, grabbing Zyneth and getting ready to throw him away from her attack.

“Kanin, stop!” Zyneth cries.

Blair doesn’t even react to our appearance. She hasn’t yet launched her attack, and her hand continues to shimmer. It’s almost like…

…She was expecting us.

Blair waits for another few seconds, but when no one moves, when we don’t attack, the light vanishes from her hand. It fades from her eyes and skin as well. When we can make out her expression again, she’s smiling in faint amusement.

Wait…

“Congratulations.” Blair shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. But I believe you.”