A Janissary's Notebook

[Blue41]

I didn't know Grenth well, or personally. But I did make him a promise, in the darkened cellroom. Same promise I owe anyone who ostensibly dies under our protection; the same owed to the Wroth--that I would find him answers, that blood would have blood. And for the last week, the men worked hard to do just that. Barely needed any direction, which should be a blessing. But despite all the noise over the bellows...I'm not satisfied. The blade may have been buried, but its wielder is still at large.

Perhaps that's what drove me to answer Doomed-Oath's call. Grenth didn't have much on him that should have gone to his next of kin, but he did bear that message. Rose the hairs on the back of my neck to read it. Doomed-Oath understood the significance of it as well. We spoke, and for a change of pace, I shared without thought of where the information might go to, or the dangers in revealing it. And he and his did in turn, which was...unexpected. Made me realize that there's something of a pattern with me when it comes to meaningful relationships. Mine are always contentious. I can think of very few I can call friend who I also haven't suspected of treachery, or asked uncomfortable questions, or nearly driven out of my life entirely.

Didn't leave the Tablet feeling better, or worse. What I felt was a kind of...persistent awareness, somehow. The Wroth's eyes staring at the back of my head. There was something I was missing, something important. Damned if I knew what, but the feeling itself was familiar. Diakos in a coma on the brink of death in the Temple of B'aara. The Tonsured, speaking cryptic truths that no one else could hear. Going on patrol with a Soldier around the Well, and finding snakes, eating their own tail, at every wall-- dead in the sands.

Trying to fit together a puzzle the size of the Divan's map-room with one hand. Just because it can be done alone, doesn't mean that it needs to. Made the realization, the thundercrack of what might be hit that much harder. I've come close to opening up that drawer again, but scorch can't match that feeling. I live for it. I think the soldiers might be coming to realize that, too.