Arai took much longer to finish his breakfast that morning than he usually did. In fact, he took so long that he had barely left the fortress when someone came marching past him.
"Ridiculous," the guard muttered. "Absurd."
Arai glanced at the man sharply. He looked slightly familiar, though the Karunic zakun couldn't place him.
"Who are you?" the guard demanded, his eyes narrowing. "You're not… Oh. You're the metai who came through the gate the other day."
Oh. So this was a gate guardsman. Arai blinked.
"What's the problem?" he asked stiffly.
"My companion hasn't showed up at the gate yet," the guard scowled. "I can't stand guard alone."
Arai pressed his lips together tightly.
"Well, I'm not in charge around here," he retorted as he stepped past the man and kept walking.
His steps took him to the village belltower–to the very top. Even the birdsong was barely audible by the time he reached the highest level and looked out the open brick-formed windows onto the village below.
He smiled briefly at the view, then kicked at a pile of rubbish in one of the corners.
There it was: a piece of glass fixed to a board that was painted black.
In effect, a mirror.
Arai brushed it off until he could see his own face. Then he straightened and walked back to the window.
His eyes scanned the vast distance. Villages…plains…the pronounced walls of what had been Karun's capital…
…and, in the very, very far distance, the Sarai mountain range.
Arai held up the mirror and angled it carefully between the sun and the mountains. Both east; both unreachable.
He glanced away as a shaft of light stabbed his eyes. Then it was directed away from him again, and he squinted at the mountains.
The tiniest speck of light flashed in the distance.
They were waiting.
Arai deflected the light carefully, muttering to himself under his breath. His message was a long one.
He flared it twice. Then he waited.
The faraway speck vanished and reappeared, three times. Arai stepped away from the window and bent down to shove the mirror back underneath the pile of rags.
He froze as movement sounded on the stairs.
Footsteps.
Arai held his breath.
The sounds died away. Finally Arai dared to move again.
His descent was quicker than his ascent had been. Arai half-expected someone to jump out with a knife. But no one did.
The ground felt welcoming beneath his boots as he made his way back to the fortress. But once there, any composure he had rediscovered promptly vanished.
"Arai!"
Taro grinned for a moment, but then his face fell as Arai's didn't change.
"That…that is your name, right?" the younger boy asked hesitantly.
"Oh. Right," Arai nodded. "It…it is."
Taro took a partial step backwards.
"Am I bothering you?" he asked quietly.
Arai shook his head energetically. "No, I just…wasn't expecting to see you around here," he laughed.
Taro laughed as well. "Oh. I'm just here to find a sheath in the armory that I can use," he admitted. "So I just said hi because we met the other day."
Arai found that he was able to grin. "That's fine. I'm…I'm on my way to the armory, too."
Taro led the way, and Arai followed with something of a new spring in his step.
"What kind of sheath are you looking for?" he wondered aloud. "Do you have a sword?"
"Yeah," Taro returned shortly.
They slipped into the building together. It was empty, but sunlight poured through the several windows. Taro stepped towards a collection of sheaths, while Arai fingered some daggers hesitantly.
Suddenly Taro spun around.
"You wanted to talk, didn't you," he noted.
Arai stared back.
"Maybe," he admitted, but suddenly he wasn't sure.
How much did Taro Zayasu know?
Or did he know anything at all?
Taro stood still, waiting.
Finally Arai pulled his hands away from the shelf of daggers and set them on his belt resolutely.
"Taro, have you ever thought about…joining the Karunic resistance?"
The younger boy caught his breath.
"Why?" he asked quietly.
Arai swallowed, hard, as he watched the boy's eyes–all he could see above the mask.
"I've heard you won't ask for initiation," he murmured.
"And neither will you," Taro returned.
For a moment, neither of the two moved.
"So you're in the resistance?" Taro whispered.
A slight smile teased Arai's mouth beneath his own mask.
"I am," he conceded.
Slowly Taro took a step backwards, shaking his head.
"I'm sorry, Arai. I can't join you."
Arai froze.
"Why–why not?"
Taro's eyes softened.
"I have a family," he said. "I have a family, and…sisters."
Arai's grip on his belt tightened as he involuntarily took a step closer to the boy.
"Karun is our family." The words sifted through his mask. "Karun is our sisters."
Taro stood his ground, holding out his hand. Arai stopped short.
"I said I can't join you, Arai."
For the first time, Arai saw the steel in the boy's hazel eyes.
But he shook his head again.
"Taro…you…don't have a choice anymore!"
The younger boy blinked.
"I will always have a choice," he said, softly.
"No." Arai bit out the words. "Not anymore."
"What do you mean?"
Taro's gaze pierced into Arai's mind.
He shivered, trying to shake off the uncanny sensation of…what, he did not know.
Arai took a careful step backwards, towards the door of the armory.
"But what do you mean?" Taro pressed again, and Arai realized it was an actual question.
A question he suddenly found he couldn't answer.
If Taro would not join the resistance, then…
No. He simply didn't have a choice.
Not unless he wanted to die.
But Arai couldn't tell him that–yet.
"Forget I said anything," he hissed, turning away.
Taro's hand closed around Arai's arm before the older boy could leave.
"What are you saying?" Taro demanded. "Are you saying my family is in danger?"
Arai locked eyes with him.
"Karun has always been in danger," he half-spat, half-cried as he tore himself away.
Taro stood in the doorway long seconds after Arai had disappeared.
Then he turned back to the armory that seemed dark as night.
Taro blinked, grasping a sword off the wall and tightening his hand around the hilt. The movement brought some of the life back into him, but…
Taro replaced the blade, his eyes confused. It didn't feel right.
Maybe because there was only one sword he wanted to use now.
It took him some time to find a sheath he thought would fit. But when he did find one, his face lit up.
It was plain and worn–nothing like what the old one would have been like–but it was sturdy, and it was light.
Two minutes later found Taro in the smithy, showing the sheath to his father.
"Huh." The man stood back from the anvil, wiping the sweat from his face. "It looks decent."
"Do you think I can use it?" Taro smiled weakly.
"I think so," the blacksmith grunted. "But you'll have to ask someone in charge."
"Right." Taro bit his lip. "Um, is it the same person–"
"I think you might have to ask the valoren." The man scowled at the thought. "I'll ask for you."
"No–" Taro began, then broke short.
"It's my sword," he finished meekly. "I…I'd better ask, myself."
"Fair," the man muttered. "Well, go ahead."
His eyes narrowed.
"But don't mention the sword."
Taro smiled his thanks–was it thanks?–and slipped out the smithy door. He didn't feel his father's gaze following him, but he did grin up at the sunlight that brightened his path.
Still, at the gate of the fortress itself, he hesitated.
What was a nobody like him doing, trying to talk to the valoren himself?
But the valoren had addressed him yesterday.
Biting back his fear, Taro stepped lightly through the gate and headed for the stairs.
A guard stopped him in the stairwell. "Where do you think you're going?"
Taro winced.
"I have a favor to ask of the…the valoren," he finished lamely before he could think.
"Why do you know the valoren is here?" The guard's eyes narrowed into slits.
Taro gulped in air as the soldier shoved him against the wall and the sheath clattered down the steps.
"He…he talked to me," Taro mumbled, for lack of a better–or quicker–explanation.
The man's eyes shifted down to the sheath as it hit the bottom of the stairs with one last angry clunk.
"What, are you trying to attack the valoren, or something?"
The guard shoved Taro, but the boy caught himself just in time before he joined the sheath.
"Please!" he panted. "I'm Taro Zayasu! I live around here!"
"Khur," the guard snarled–then jumped as a head appeared over the railing, some flights above.
"What's the noise about?" Valoren Yazawa snapped.
Both the guard and Taro's heads craned upwards.
"This khur is trying to attack your lordship," the guard shouted, his face reddening by the moment.
"Isn't that Taro Yazawa?"
The guard's hand on Taro's arm froze.
"Don't touch him," Yazawa growled, and the guard jerked his entire body away.
The valoren descended. Taro didn't move, but the soldier hesitated for only a moment before apparently deciding he had somewhere else he needed to be–immediately.
Taro glanced sideways as the soldier made his exit. Something very deep inside him wanted to do the same.
But that was nonsense. The valoren apparently…cared about him.
Though Taro didn't know why the thought sent shivers down his spine.
Nonsense, he told himself again.
"Taro," Valoren Yazawa smiled as he came even with the boy. "Did you want something?"