“If someone owns a civilian lattice, they will wear it on days like this, when relics are brought into the open. The Church and the Sarumite Order want to remind the people that relics arewoven into the fabric of our world, that they’re as real as the air we breathe, even if most commoners will never touch one or feel its power. So, those who can afford civilian lattices will wear them openly to show that they belong, and also to look down on those who can’t buy a single bone shard, let alone a cluster of them.”
“The Charm Veil softens first impressions, makes one seem affable,” Rune said. “It’s a form of subtle manipulation.”
“Until the person wearing it falls to anger or launches into obvious flattery,” Seraphina provided. “Every lattice has a weakness, especially classes C and D.”
It was refreshing to talk to someone about what had constituted her work and vocation for the better part of her life. Rune recognized lattices from a distance, something only an experienced weaver was capable of. It hurt that she couldn’t see them anymore – the patterns, the stitchwork, how the bone shards fit together. It had been a game she and Matteo had played often when they emerged from behind the academy walls on Sundays for a stroll in the city and tried to spot lattices. Whoever spotted the most, won.
“That’s a Hearthband,” Rune said.
“Class D. It only affects the wearer.”
“Another Hearthband.”
“Well, it’s cold, a lot of people will wear them.”
Hearthbands were usually worn attached to belts or pinned to shawls. They made cold and dampness feel less uncomfortable, but it was only perceptual. They couldn’t prevent frostbite if the wearer stubbornly sat in the freezing cold thinking the lattice would make them immune.
“And that’s a–”
“Rune.” She tugged her wrist free of his grip and clutched at his sleeve instead. “Stop pointing.”
“Sorry.”
It wasn’t that, if she were to be honest. This was hers and Matteo’s game, and it felt inappropriate in a way she couldn’t explain to be playing it with someone else. Rune had initiated it, and it grated on her that he’d done it so casually, like it was a normal thing people did to amuse themselves. To pass the time spotting and counting lattices.
Seraphina’s mood changed in a heartbeat. She felt a chill spread through her bones, and the tiny hairs on her arms stood on end under her too big cloak. At first, she thought it was because of Rune, but he was innocent. He didn’t know what he was doing. It was just that while he recognized lattices like it was nothing, he still didn’t know anything about relics and the bits of bone lattices were made of, which reminded her that he was an unsolved mystery. A man who made no sense. He could describe highly specialized things while having zero foundational knowledge.
But then she felt a tickling sensation slither up her nape under the large hood, and knew she was being watched.
“I know where we can find food.”
She pulled at Rune’s sleeve, and he followed her through the crowd until they emerged into a street that wasn’t as busy. She walked quickly, keeping her head down and never letting go of his sleeve. It felt like she was dragging a big, clumsy child who couldn’t be trusted to walk on his own. She didn’t care what it looked like from the outside, because all she wanted was to get rid of the slithering feeling of being stalked. It could’ve been a watchman who’d recognized her from the description, or a vigilant do-gooder. She wasn’t going to stick around and find out.
Seraphina took a left, then another left, and straight ahead, there was Saint Maurice’s Church, which was blessedly quiet since everyone was gathered at the Church of Our Lady. They went around the building and entered the old churchyard.
An entire generation had passed since anyone was buried in Saint Maurice’s churchyard. The practice of burying the dead within city walls had been banned three decades before on grounds of poisonous exhalations, but the old graves and monuments remained, and on All Hallows’ Eve, people visited to light candles and leave food for their dearly departed.
“Oh,” Rune exhaled.
Seraphina grinned and turned her head to the right, then to the left, to see if there were any dark shadows moving between the graves. She sensed there was someone coming down an adjacent alley, and she ducked behind a row of monuments and pulled Rune with her. She led them deeper into the churchyard, until she was certain that if they kept low, no one would spot them.
“There’s food,” Rune said with disbelief.
“Yes, and plenty of it, too. See if you can find some pastries.”
She sniffed the air, trying to find them herself. It was a bit harder for her, seeing how her relic wasn’t exactly made to find food in the dark, but to appreciate the distance between objects and show her moving shadows, but Seraphina managed to get her hands on a loaf of bread that wasn’t even that stale, and a bowl that contained three apples.
Rune was a few graves away. When she tilted her head toward him, she had the impression that he was filling his pockets.
She moved to another gravestone and felt around. Her fingers encountered a bottle, and when she tapped on it, she found it full. She uncorked it and smelled wine. Seraphina could dance with joy.
“Look what I found,” she said at the same time he did.
Rune was stunned by the synchronization, but she laughed, and after a few seconds, he joined in.
“Wine,” she said.
“Sweet bread and... these rolls.”
