Keenin lay awake in Alaban’s guest room feeling the throb of every herb-smeared scrape and burn and wishing that nobody would come check on him. This was never the way that Keenin had wanted to be invited upstairs. And to be honest, he felt too awful to appreciate the change. Voices known and unknown filtered in from the hall, but he couldn't focus. 

Whoever had put him here for recovery had made the wrong choice. The sinking feather mattress and itchy grey blanket were tolerable, but the well-intentioned open window was threatening to end him as the sun assaulted his already overheated body. At any moment he felt like he might turn over and vomit the soot that was churning in his stomach. This must have been how a dragon felt on a sick day.

Before he got a chance to become sicker, Keenin pushed back the unbearable sheets and slid down to the floor. He immediately felt chilled, but his stomach started to settle as he continued to inhale fresh air and exhale the taste of smoke. 

Feeling that he was ready to stand, he got up from the floor and went out into the hallway. The hum of voices was loud here. There must have been a lot of people downstairs. That made Keenin feel more uncomfortable than the guest room. Alaban must not have been well for people to be let into the house. Who knew what they could be poking at or trying to steal? 

Keenin saw an open door at the end of the hall and went towards it. He had intended to enter, but when he heard that Alaban was speaking to someone he wanted to wait and listen. He wanted to know how bad things were first.

“You should be able to stand in three days,” the stranger said, “Someone will need to look after you until then.”

“I can help if Keenin isn’t feeling well,” Lester said. 

Lester? Why is Lester here? 

“Does your friend have no family name?” Alaban asked.

“I’ve never heard of one. We just called him Keenin because he wouldn’t give us a name. Is it that strange?”

“What happened to his parents?”

“His dad never came back from the war with the giants. His mom must have left him to take care of herself. I just know that I visited his house one day and there was no mother, no food, no nothing.”

Keenin had heard enough. He wandered back down the hall. He wanted to go downstairs and pick leaves apart as always, but he could hear the visitors crowded into Alaban’s house, likely waiting for the news that their potion seller survived. 

Keenin came to the closed door between his and Alaban’s room. Looking for a place to be alone he opened it. He was faced with a heavy silence.

 On the bare floor of an otherwise empty room lay two bodies covered in white sheets. 

If only he had arrived earlier. If only he had listened to the man warning him about opening that door. If only he had run to Alaban’s house instead of the fire then at least-

“It really wasn’t his fault,” Alaban’s voice filtered out to him. 

“I’m the failure.” Lester was saying. “I didn’t even notice the fire. I thought he ran to you.”

Keenin shut himself into the room. At least corpses couldn’t talk behind your back. At least, they weren’t supposed to. His gaze rested on the face hidden under the small sheet. He found it difficult to believe that it was her. A charred body might have belonged to anyone. 

Leave, he thought he heard Tess say again. 

He stared at the unmoving body. 

“Tess?” he questioned the room.

“Leave!” Alaban said outside. “I’ll call you back when needed. Where is Keenin?”

Keenin's heart raced. Two people walked past the room he was in. Then one came back and opened the door. It was a man he had never seen before. He wore a white tunic under a simple padded vest marked with a double unicorn crest. After a minute he spoke. 

“Make no mistake, she is dead.”

“I’m not stupid,” Keenin mumbled. He turned away.

“Your mentor would like to speak to you.”

“I heard him,” Keenin said. 

The man didn’t leave so finally Keenin slipped past him into the hallway. 

Alaban’s room was much nicer: large oak bed, thin silk sheets, a lamp on the side table, and paintings of mountains on the walls.

"Your guest room is ugly,” Keenin complained.

Alaban started to laugh and stopped himself.

“Ah, I'm sorry. I shouldn't laugh."

Keenin’s expression had gone sour. 

“Are you really not going to blame me?” Keenin asked.

He didn't even feel sad. Tess was dead. That should have mattered. 

“Blame for what. I'm the one who started a fight with that criminal. I was ready for him too. Didn't expect he had a helper or that he'd throw the damn stone cup at my head. And then Lester came running in and when we figured out where you went…well you might recall me trying to break down the door.” 

“Who is that guy in white?” 

“A white knight of Meladona. Came looking for the criminals.”

“Why is he still here?”

“He’s waiting for you.”

“Me?”

“His name is Renaldo Ecclestone. As I said, the man is a white knight of Meladona. He wants to take you to the school of magic there.”

“For what?”

“For learning magic.”

What magic?

“I don’t have magic.”

“He would think otherwise. You did come out of the fire remarkably un-burnt.”

Keenin remembered the flaming figure that had seemed to hover above Tess. 

“I think something else helped me,” Keenin said.

“Then you have a unique fortune to catch people’s attention, and very likely the attention of an elemental spirit of fire.”

“But these things don't happen to people like me. It's a mistake. And…and whose supposed to look after you?”

"Well…you don't have to accept the offer, but people like you are valuable. The soldiers who attacked me were looking for people like you. I'm afraid it's safer sticking with that knight.”

Keenin didn’t know what to say. He had never seen the old man so helpless. Alaban lifted and uncured his hand to reveal a potion bottle tied with a cord. He pressed it to Keenin’s chest, his hand trembling with effort. Keenin instinctively clutched Aleban’s hand hand in both of his.

“You cannot stay here, but you don't need to go with the knight. This is a chance to choose for yourself. Get stronger so no one can use you. Take the bag beside the bed. It has a knife and some basic supplies. When you go downstairs pretend that you need to get something from the pantry. There’s a hidden door at the back. Go through and head for the oak tree to get the map.”

Footsteps could be heard coming down the corridor. Keenin slipped the cord with the potion bottle around his neck and grabbed the bag from the ground. He turned to face the door with the bag in hand.

“Are you ready to go boy?” the white knight asked of him.

This was serious. He had not realized how serious.

“What about the funeral?” Keenin asked the knight.

Surely they could give him a few more hours, a few more minutes.

“You said goodbye didn’t you. I need to drop you off and get back on Merdoc’s trail. You don’t want to see Merdoc do this to another town do you?” 

“No,” Keenin agreed automatically. 

Renaldo walked away expecting him to follow.

“You don’t have to be so tense,” Lester said appearing. “Renaldo agreed to take both of us so we can go through this together. It’s not exactly the same, but we can finally get some respect. Want me to take that bag for you?”

Keenin looked at his friend Lestor as though he had never known him. Lester didn’t understand that this wasn’t the same for them both. It wasn’t an equal choice when Keenin had a gift that others wanted to use and abuse, but he had no time to explain.

“I can carry it,” Keenin said, tightening his grip.

“Well, hurry down,” Lester said going.

Keenin quickly turned back to Aleban for the last time. His gaze had softened. 

“You can follow them if you want,” Alaban said quietly. 

“If I come back, can I still be your apprentice?”

*

The knight had mounted a white horse with a golden bridle. Lester held the leather reigns of a brown mare. 

“I'll help you up.”

“I'll come, but I need to get something.”

They dropped him by the side of the road near the tree. He bent down and dug with the dagger that was gifted. When the rusted tin became visible Keenin paused.  

If he ran away with Lester and sold this, could their problems be solved. Could it be that simple? 

He lifted the container and brushed off the dirt. A cold wind blew and he had a vague feeling that he was being watched. 

“Are you watching, Tess?” 

"Is that something valuable?" a quiet voice asked nearby. 

Against the backdrop of trees, the leader of the thieves stood filing his nails with a knife. For now only Keenin could see him, but neither of them had privacy for long.

"If you like dried pork," Keenin noted. "Then I guess it counts as valuable."

"And what's in your bag?"

"Stale bread."

"And your pockets?"

Keenin held out his knife. “The war criminals were more honorable. They kept to their word.”

“Different professions,” Keln noted.

A hand rested on Keenin’s shoulder as he continued to squat with his dirty knife pointed in defense. 

"Leave,” Lester directed Keln.

“Should I leave, Keenin?” 

No. Keln wasn't stupid. He wouldn't stand there vulnerable. But the gang was not so skilled at staying silent. Keln had left many days ago so he hadn't returned for a trinket.

“Do you want this?” Keenin asked, holding up the tin. “But what do you think will strike first? Your knife? Or that mounted knight over there?” 

Keln’s mouth twitched with a smile. Lester's hand resting on his shoulder clenched to grip Keenin’s shirt. 

“Since You can't do anything,  we'll go first.”

“Did you know,” Keenin added quickly. “That I can use fire magic now.” 

As Keln made a disgusted face, Keenin saw it. 

“You dare!” Regardo yelled. 

He drew his sword as an arrow clanged against his visor. He charged on his horse and the attacker jumped to other trees while firing arrows. Branches fell as Ragardo tried to bring the assasin down.

Seems I'm worth more money than you Keln.

“Not him. Shoot the kid,” Keln screamed and pointed in anger. Keenin didn’t realize he was shaking from nerves until 

Keln glared back.

Eye contact broke when Keenin was pushed to the ground. He heard a dull thunk and lifted to see Lester pull out a dagger that sunk into the tree behind him.

Keln ran at them. Lester pocketed the knife and threw a punch. Keln stumbled sideways and started laughing. 

“Are you an idiot?” he mumbled. “Ha. Do you not want to kill me in front of that kid?”

Lester was throwing another punch. But his arm was slapped aside and a hand grabbed his hair. Lester reflexively gripped the wrist of the hand restraining him. 

“So what? What will you do,” Lester taunted. “Kick me to death.” 

Keln maneuvered his free hand and a wooden knife slid from his sleeve. It was stabbed quickly, A scream of rage and pain followed when it sunk into the Lesters lower abdomen. Then Lester was yanked forward by his hair and tripped to the ground. 

“You bastard!” Lester screamed. 

“Idiot. Be glad you're still worth something. Unlike…”

Keln stole back his regular knife and pointed it to Keenin. 

They're both idiots. And me…

“Keenin, run to the knight,” Lester warned. 

Keenin stood welding a thin dirty knife. He shook with small tremors of tension. He was dead. 

As his mind cemented the finality of his death, a whiz and a splat, and Keln’s gloating expression disintegrated when the arrow pierced his head. He collapsed dead. 

Keenin shook hander. He waited a full minute before dropping his knife and rushing to Lester's side.

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” Lester was repeating and pressing against the wound where the knife still pierced him.

Keenin gently wrapped a hand around the handle of the wooden knife. His other rose to clutch the small bottle at his neck.

“Keenin don't,” Lester warned.

They both knew bleeding got worse when you pulled out what was stuck in the wound. 

“I can do this. It won't bleed.”

Lester opened his mouth to protest, but the knife was pulled free and the contents of a potion was poured into the wound. A gentle itching accompanied the closing of the wound. 

Lester felt the smooth healed skin and grinned. “You're so cool now.”

“Relax. I'll get the knight,” Keenin said.

“Hey.” Lester called and tried to follow, but his legs were weak. “Hey.”

Keenin paused. “The side effect of quick healing is loss of strength.  “Regardo won't let me get captured. Relax.” 

He took a moment to retrieve the map. When Lester was just out of sight he stopped walking, one hand resting on a pine tree for support. The thudding of horse hooves and snapping of branches reverberated until a cut scream echoed and died.

It was terribly quiet then. When the soft thud of hooves resumed, Keenin judged the direction, and crouched low behind a tree and closed his eyes. Regardo passed by his hiding spot. Again, he was alone with his thoughts. 

It would be nice to return to sleep. He was mentally exhausted. A minute passed. Maybe two. He inspected his dirty hands and soon found himself walking to the river.

He didn't see any bodies. He didn't notice much as he crouched to wash his face. When he raised his head he saw the boat. It floated on the river tied by a rope to a tree. A quiver of arrows and small pack sat at the bottom.

By the time he again heard the steady punk of hooves he was sitting in the boat casually holding the rope to keep from floating away, waiting. 

Regardo and his horse came to a stop at the bank. Blood was still splashed against his shin guards. 

“Why wait?” he asked.

“The same reason you came so slowly. You would catch me. If not today, then tomorrow. You need to let me leave.” 

“Child, I am taking you along to protect you,” Regardo said.

“And to enlist me in the war,” Keenin pointed out. 

“The war already affects us, but yes, you will be asked to help. Not forced. A trained elemental user is too dangerous to offend. I will personally see you trained. Why do you insist on leaving alone?”

“Sir. I already lost someone I care about. I’m a valuable person. Enemies will look for me and use my friends against me. I don't want you to sacrifice Lester to save me.”

Lester will travel safer. 

“Are you sure about this? You realize you cannot tell anyone what you can do now.”

“Yes, clearly. I saw what that assassin was thinking. Is this you letting me go? I did have more arguments. Like how, you need to chase those villains and you can't afford to watch me.”

“Do you know where you're going?”

“I have a map.” 

“And you can survive the wild?”

“I'm a street rat. I already lived out here. I’ll go to Behoden and then join you in Selundrum. Must be someone in that famous library town that can help.” 

Regardo sighed. 

“Foolish,” he mumbled again. 

After a final consideration, Regardo lifted a travel pack and threw it into the boat. 

“If I don’t find you in Behoden or Maladona in the next two months I’ll hunt you down myself.”