The Last Philosopher

The dishonour of a Knome

It'd been more than a week since the Dalmicir headmaster last visited their humble cavern. When Isath was notified the ancient sorcerer was limping their way. They had set up a sentry to keep watch. Out of sight of course, since Lyeasrakardsul was so upset by their waiting for him. The Knomes were all busy looking like they weren't waiting when the purple robed headmaster appeared in the cave entrance. Sniffing and making a face, he took his hat of and started stroking his tobacco stained beard.

"What wrong master?"

"It's about the observatory order," the headmaster pouted and smacked his lips in an exaggerated manner.

"Yes, is nice observatory for you!"

After running through what felt like every tunnel in Véla, to get the repairs underway. Isath had been looking forward to giving the good news. He was so tall now he often had to bend his neck to not scrape the tunnel roofs. His neck still hurt from scurrying, but it was time for some of the old bow and scrape.

"Oh, well--" the old man paused his hand twisting hat like it was wet. But even if summer showers were common on the plain, it wasn't raining. "You see, the thing is, as it turns out we decided we don't need it."

As the oldest administrator on the Pentakl plain, Isath shouldn't have been shocked. But somehow he had convinced himself this sorcerer was different.

"Master joking with Isath? Is good joke, trick poor Knomes good."

It wasn't uncommon. A magick user would order some impossibly complicated machine, and once it was done they would cancel it, only to explain how useless it was.

"No, no, nothing like that, I did think I needed it, but the council has ordered me to cancel it," the headmaster seemed almost apologetic. "But don't worry I said nothing about it being built without permission."

"Master not tell on Isath?"

"No, and I suppose, since you have built the thing already, perhaps I could have a quick look at it?"

It was as non-committal an offer as he had ever heard, but Isath choose to ignore that part. This sorcerer hadn't taken an obvious opportunity to jam them up, even at a slight risk to himself. It was unheard-of. Only now had he realised the sorcerer looked embarrassed. It wasn't a look he'd seen on one of them before.

"Master make Isath much happy! We go see lowly machine?"

The other administrators started jumping up and down. Their ears flopping about as they clapped their nimble little hands.

"Hold on a minute, where is this thing?"

"Is close to forest of Dim, in mountains!"

"Dim? I'm not going to Dim!"

"No Master, not Dim, only close." He bowed a bit extra.

Isath was confused. The headmaster seemed to be alternating between absent-minded grumbling and random shouting. Now, he was fiddling with the Knome-dolls they kept on a high shelf. So they wouldn't be fiddled with. They were collectibles, and fine craftsmanship. All wearing the usual top-hats, with awkwardly placed welder's goggles and brass gears for bracelets.

It was a common superstition that Cokurness — the god of logick — enjoyed the dolls. Therefore they kept Brownie's away. A variety of Pish suspected of fouling up the inner workings of inventions by their mere presence. As non-practising atheists, most Knomes would swear they weren't superstitious. Isath had certainly never believed in that sort of thing. Still, better safe than sorry.

Watching the sorcerer talk to himself, and answering too, he wondered what it would be like to have magick. Knomes cursed in that way were exceptionally rare. There hadn't been a recorded case since long before Empris, and current council dogma claimed it was impossible. Even so, the only race said to never get the curse was the Pish.

"Why so far away," the headmaster asked as if still talking to himself.

Glegur kicked Isath's shin, he'd gotten a bit lost in his own thoughts. "What Master?"

"Why is the observatory so far away?"

"Oh, yes master, Áettar order, sorry master we make close for them."

"But I don't want to go anywhere, or do anything!"

Isath glanced at Glegur and they both presented their best sad puppy-dog impression.

"Is marvellous machine, master not honour poor Knomes with presence?"

"I can't go running off to south of Empris, you are trying to sell me something I don't need at a price I can't refuse."

Isath smiled innocently, "no just want master be happy."

"The council would never allow it. Unless? Could I find a way to honour them with my absence?" Again the headmaster wasn't talking to any of them. "Maybe I could use going with the brothers as an excuse? It would take some skilful manipulation on my part."

"Alright you," Lyeasrakardsul pointed at him. "Stop bowing and stand up, what's your name, anyway?"

He was pretty sure the headmaster knew his name, but this was good, he was deflecting. By embarrassing Isath, the power dynamic shifted and he could accept their offer.

"Knome is Isath master, master really come observatory?"

"No promises," the sorcerer sighed, "but I will look into the possibility. However, I'm not going one step further than there and back again!"

This was exciting. With his administrator duties Isath hadn't been that far away from Véla, their secret city, since he was a child.

Updated: 22.09.2023