A HENRY STORY 2: Trials Of The Fallen Prince

XII. Trial

"I was wondering for how long I'd be rid of you."

Henry had not reached the steep wall yet when he heard the voice from the shade. "I have your payment," he said, watching her creep into sight.

"And what is it that you have concocted?" she asked bemusedly.

"See for yourself." Henry reached into his pocket and extended his wrapped payment toward her.

Kismet hesitated only for a heartbeat, then grasped and unwrapped it. As soon as she understood what it was, her eye widened. She hooked her claw into the loop at the bottom of the twisted handle, cautiously raising the round, see-through lens.

Henry delighted in the mesmerizing play of his torch's flickering light on the glass, distorting her eye. And then he took in that she . . . was actually looking at him. Not passively staring into the distance or squinting to barely make something out. Her gaze was on him, and for the first time, it was crystal clear.

Kismet stared at him for half a minute without breaking eye contact before she finally turned. Henry watched contentedly as she inspected her surroundings and raised his torch higher. But as fascinating as her indulgence in his payment was, with every passing second, Henry's impatience grew. He had to know if it was working as well as it should, whether it sufficed, and . . . whether she was happy with it.

When he finally opened his mouth, Kismet lowered the lens with a trembling claw and spoke first: "How did you acquire this?"

"I have a friend who is talented at building things. I asked him for advice on what you may delight in and for help in making it." She didn't respond, and Henry could practically watch her battle to retain her composure. "Is it strong enough?" he asked. "Or too strong? We had no reference for that, so it may not be perfect."

"It is not perfect," she said. "But it is . . . better than nothing. A lot."

"In that case, do you accept my payment?"

For the first time since he had presented her with the lens, something like agitation entered her gaze. "I cannot."

"What?!" exclaimed Henry. "What more do you want? A diamond the size of my palm? A golden apple from the Garden of the Hesperides?" He barely registered her head twitching at the mention. "King Gorger's tooth, perhaps?" Henry froze; his hand darted to the back of his hip and Mys. "Never mind that last one," he mumbled. "But my point is—"

"I've gotten your point," she cut him off. "Yet you are still missing mine."

"How so?"

"My point is . . ." She inhaled. "Not about whether this payment is adequate. Not about you fulfilling your end of this non-existent deal. My point is that I may not be able to fulfill mine."

"But Ripred said—"

"Ripred doesn't know what he is talking about," Kismet scoffed. "What he is . . . asking." She retreated a few steps, twisting the handle of the vision aid. Her stance and expression conveyed an unwillingness to give it up again.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean—" She twitched. "Pup, I understand that you are determined. That you had your reasons to ask for Ripred's aid and to seek me out, against all odds. I understand it well." Before Henry could ask how, she continued: "You feel inept and weak. You are unsatisfied with your current skill because you know that you can be better. More. Is it not what drives you, pup? Is it not what fuels you? You long for it; I see it in your expression and your stance. I hear it in your every word. And you believe I am your key to improvement."

"Then you understand!" Henry exclaimed. "You have to—!"

"I do not "have to" anything," snarled Kismet. "I understand that you have your reasons to come here, yet you must also understand that I have my reasons to refuse, despite it all."