INSIDE THE BLACKGUARD INN, near central Triah, Knot took a draught from a large mug of ale. He didn’t know if it was his encounter with Sirana the other night, the fact he hadn’t seen Astrid in a few days, or something else altogether, but there was enough on his mind that he actually wanted to dull his senses for a spell.
The atmosphere of the Blackguard Inn was exasperatingly jovial this evening. A lutist had struck up a tune as he’d walked in, and musician after musician had joined in until what seemed an entire bloody orchestra was playing. A few of the patrons had taken to dancing in the open space in the middle of the common room. Spirits were high, and laughter the most common sound.
For Knot, it was intolerable. The Blackguard was the seventh inn he’d been to that day, and still he hadn’t had any luck. He’d been asking after rumors of the shamans, who Astrid had said might be able to help Winter, but no one seemed to know anything about such people.
And Astrid hadn’t shown herself for three days. He’d begun to worry the first night she hadn’t returned to their tent in the Odenite camp. He told himself again that Astrid could take care of herself. She’d disappeared a time or two, and had always come back. But he was afraid for her this time, more than he’d ever been before.
“You look like you need another drink, mate.”
Knot didn’t raise his eyes. He’d made note of this particular man the moment he walked into the inn: blond, average height, broad-shouldered. A dagger at his belt. His gait and mannerisms were strikingly familiar; it had taken Knot a few moments to realize they reminded him of himself. But he knew this man anyway.
Knot had seen him in his dreams.
“You’re Nazaniin,” Knot muttered.
“Canta’s bloody bones. She told you I’d be coming, didn’t she?”
“Sirana might have mentioned something,” Knot said, “but I’d have recognized you anyway.”
“She could have done me the same favor.”
For the first time, their eyes met.
“You’re too pretty to be a fighter,” Knot grunted.
The man chuckled at that. “Aye, so they tell me. The old you would know why.”
Just as Knot kept his appearance as nondescript and unremarkable as possible, the other man’s attractiveness was a sort of camouflage. Knot felt his own unobtrusiveness was far superior to the ostentatious look of this Nazaniin.
“What do you mean ‘you’d have recognized me anyway’? Do you know who I am?”
“No. Just seen you in my dreams.”
Silence stretched between them.
“My name is Code,” the other finally said. When Knot shrugged, Code added, “That doesn’t mean anything to you? Jog something in the memory?”
“It doesn’t.” Knot took another swig of his ale. “That hurt your feelings?”
Code’s mouth flattened. “If you’re a completely different person, you could’ve done us all a favor and left his attitude behind.”
“Don’t take it personally,” Knot muttered. “Just having a bad day.”
Code signaled the innkeeper, and asked the man for another mug of ale.
Knot could buy his own drinks. He shook his head, about to say as much, but Code cut him off.
“It’s for me, mate. Don’t get your knickers in a squeeze.”
Knot almost chuckled at that, but stopped himself just in time.
“So we knew each other before?”
“Aye, we did. Had sort of a rivalry going on, actually.”
Knot snorted. “I imagine that was all in your mind, lad. I ain’t the type to have rivals.”
“You’re right, you weren’t.” Code grinned. “Not until you met me.”
“And you were a real challenge for me, then? Easy to say when I have no memory of it.”
“I’m in your dreams,” Code said. “How many people have you dreamt about, from before? I can’t imagine it’s many.”
Knot frowned. “A lot of people have come through my dreams,” he said. “More than you could imagine.” He’d killed hundreds in his dreams, and seen many more besides.
But the lad was right. Only a few had graced his dreams more than once, let alone on a recurring basis. This man, Code, was one of the few. Sirana one of the others.
“You remember me for a reason. I never liked you, La—” Code stopped himself. “Knot. I never liked the man you were before. Lathe and I did not get along. But I respected him, and he—”
“You think just because the person who inhabited this body—”
Code shot him a meaningful glance, and Knot caught it immediately. He and Code had been speaking in hushed tones, but Knot had begun to raise his voice. He hadn’t really caught the attention of anyone else in the inn yet, but he certainly would if he started shouting about swapping bodies and sifts and the like.
Knot took a deep breath, then spoke again, more quietly. “Just because the person who lived in this house before me respected you, don’t mean I will.”
“He tolerated me,” Code said. “I learned a lot from him, whether he liked it or not.”
“I’m not the psimancer he was. If you think you’ll—”
“Will you stop? I know you’re not him.”
“Then why are you here?” Knot asked.
“If Sirana already mentioned we’d approach you, you know why.”
Knot exhaled. Sirana hadn’t mentioned specifically why, only that someone would approach him, and that Knot should let it happen. Knot had no illusions that he could trust her, or Code.
“I must be a valuable connection to you,” Knot said. “But why should I let you have that connection? What allegiance do I owe the Nazaniin?”
“None,” Code said quickly. “But if you let me… Goddess, I don’t even care about being your friend. If you just share information with me, keep me updated—”
Knot chuckled, though the sound was completely humorless. “I won’t spy on the Odenites for you. If your leader thinks that’s what I’m going to do for him, he can shove his head up his own ass.”
“We could help you, should you need it.”
“You sent a cotir to kill Jane Oden,” Knot said. “I think you’ve helped us enough, don’t you?”
“We won’t do that again,” Code said. “You have my word on that, and you have Kosarin’s as well.”
“Forgive me if I don’t put much stock in Nazaniin honor.”
Code sighed. “We can use one another as a resource. This could help the Odenite cause.”
Truth was, Knot didn’t care for Jane’s vision of Canta’s Church more than any other—but she did want to stop the Nine Daemons, and he cared about protecting the Odens and their followers while they did that.
The Nazaniin might help that cause. Their knowledge and information network could prove invaluable.
Knot leaned closer to Code, lowering his voice. “What of the Nine?” he asked. “What do you know of them?”
The blood drained from Code’s face. “If you want to talk about that, we should go somewhere else,” Code said. “I’ve tangled with the Nine more than once. They need to be stopped.”
Knot nodded slowly. If they had that goal in common, at least, perhaps there was some business they could do together.
“One more thing,” Code added. “I’m a variant psimancer. I take faltira to access my abilities. I’ve gotten to a place where I can use faltira without suffering the addictive consequences.”
Knot narrowed his eyes. “You know of the shamans who say they can control it?”
Code nodded. “I do, and I know what helps and what doesn’t. I heard you’ve been looking for a solution for this particular problem—and I’ve also heard who it is you’re trying to aid. If rumors of that woman’s power are even fractionally true, we need to keep her as sane as possible. Without help, faltira will consume her, sooner or later.”
Knot chewed his cheek. It would not have been difficult for the Nazaniin to tail Knot from inn to inn, and gather what information he sought and infer why he sought it. Code could be saying this just to pacify him, to get him to comply.
But if there was hope for Winter, Knot wanted her to have it. He owed it to her.