In a corner of Ithi'Ka's room, hidden away from the window, there stands a swirl of brightly-colored silk adorned with a white mask.  And in those many layers of cloth, Ithi's Knave begins to stir, to avert her eyes from the painful rays of morning sun.<br/><br/>As her mistress rises to leave, Knave goes to her side, already ready.  Never tiring herself, she never bothered to set down her own meager possessions.  She says nothing, for that is not her place.  Instead, she just is, following in silence, serving more as an extension of the strange rumors that spread about her mistress than as a creature unto herself.