A little more insight into Damien. As part of his search to reach some contacts, Damien leaves word at several Information Service message drops, asking for a scrimshander — someone who does engraving work on ivory, called scrimshaw. The phrase is a Service code asking for a contact. The man that responds turns out to be Tobiet, someone Damien knew years ago, someone with whom he had once been close as brothers.
A definition of terms: a talde is a group of people who are sometimes bodyguards, but who often become advisors, then friends, then — family. Something Damien has never had; something he is only just beginning to understand he needs.

***

After a while Eadmond went to bed, but Damien sat up a bit longer, contemplating the things that been happening: the unexpected offer from the Brekken airship captain, the brief conversation with Mir. The documents he’d brought, and how those would affect the plans for countering the Brekken—those, he would have to tend to in the morning. His meeting with Tanner Veith, Tobiet, and now this ‘Court of Knives.’ That last was an ache in his heart, that being forced to kill should be celebrated by even so much as a name…

He thought back to the morning after that, when he’d remembered the cloth-wrapped package Tobiet had given him. He’d opened it to find not one but two pieces of ivory: the larger piece he had given Tobiet with the woodland scene he had requested, and a smaller piece Tobiet had cut off the bottom. Partly done so the larger piece could stand on its own, but also so that Damien could have his own piece. Tobiet had labeled the smaller piece ‘For Thee,’ and the larger ‘For Thy Lady.’ He had polished the new piece until it was smooth and gleaming, and then engraved it as well. Long and narrow, the topmost image showed the cartouche from the hilt of Damien’s dagger with the crown and lilies, then a bird on a nest with wings spread over it protectively; a cat, curled up and sleeping; the head of a well-bred horse with a braided mane, a bright butterfly resting on a lily flower, and a badger. And on the reverse side, a pair of soaring ospreys.

Damien had spent several minutes just staring at them wonderingly before finally wrapping the larger piece back in the cloth and then slipping it into the rabbit-skin pouch. Tobiet had made a hole at the top of the smaller piece and threaded a braided cord through it; Damien had slipped the cord over his head and wore the piece now under his shirt.

Now he held it in one hand, running his thumb up and down along the edge, thinking of all those things. The vox message requesting asylum to defect. Tanner. Tobiet. And finally, the piece in his hands and the creatures engraved on it. He realized he had somehow chosen images symbolic of each of his—of his family, even the two sea hawks on the reverse. He could put a name to every one, without a moment’s thought.

Damien realized that these were people who meant something to him. Part of him, the part trained by Bellarmée, recognized this made him vulnerable, maybe dividing his attention at a critical moment, or giving an enemy something to be used against him. Something to lose. Something Bellarmée was trying to prevent. Bellarmée had trained him to stay apart, not to relate but only observe. But now he was realizing that this was wrong, that although those relationships might make him vulnerable, they also made him—whole. From them he had learned things he might never otherwise have known, things Bellarmée had never thought to teach him. Perhaps for fear of that vulnerability?

From Ysaut, he learned of strength that did not come of the physical, but of integrity. That same moral strength that had drawn him to her mother, Gloriane, drew him also to her. From Melina, that strength can also come of knowledge—of facts, and of people. Of insight into their needs, and the joy of being able to fulfill them. From Cécile, it was wit and forethought; the vision to see a situation and think ahead to what might be needed, and the willingness and ability to act in the moment. A fierce loyalty, and an unconditional acceptance. From Eadmond, it was the knowledge that there was someone who had his back, no matter the issue, but who was also willing to challenge him if he saw him going wrong. Also, the empathy to know what he felt, and the insight to be able to interpret it.

There was also a sort of dawning recognition that perhaps Bellarmée had somehow instilled these qualities in him without him realizing it—or had they always been there, and only now were waking? Reaching out to the others like seedlings to the sun? That these qualities resonated between each of them, and that kinship, that link, was being strengthened with every passing day?

With this, he began to truly understand the worth of the Mendi talde; of surrounding oneself with not just bodyguards but a group of people you could trust to protect you and each other, and advise you. And he was honored beyond measure that Ysaut held him in that regard. But he was also seeing that it was not only a leader and her followers; it was a connection, a kinship among all of them. Ties not only to the leader, but to each other. Was this what Eadmond called family? He was still unsure why they had all committed to him in that manner, but he accepted it as fact and acknowledged himself committed in return.

This inevitably led him to wonder what he brought to their group—and in a flash of insight came the question: what did they see in him that he could not see in himself?

Eadmond’s words on the switchback road came back to him: how can you understand what people will do for those they care for and not understand how that applies to you? Melina, calling him brother and claiming him as family, and Eadmond following her lead. Elorri, with his comment that Cécile had become fond of him, and he admitting to himself for the first time of some feeling for her as well…

After a while he lay down, still thinking, and fell asleep with the ivory in his hand.

* * *