Iriset makes a noise like a laugh caught in her teeth.
The Moon-Eater shrugs. “This god has the most power in the crater city, wouldn’t River agree? And yet this god cannot be blamed for the Renovation War.”
“Perhaps for not intervening sooner,” River says fearlessly.
“That is not why Irsu River is forever dissatisfied with the Moon-Eater.” The Moon-Eater looks at Eliri, who is watching her food. River does not answer except to touch Eliri’s leg under the table.
Uncomfortable silence sticks to all of them. Lyric Aharté watches River as if he understands something he cannot possibly understand. Iriset bluntly asks, “Why is River forever dissatisfied with the Moon-Eater?”
Eliri covers River’s hand on her thigh. She does not wish an to speak the truth, River can tell. And she’s barely eating. River answers, “This lowly small king would never claim a lack of satisfaction.”
“Where Lyric and Iriset come from,” Never says slickly, eyes on Lyric, “it is no god who decides what is just, what is merciful.”
“It is judged on the basis of Aharté’s Holy Design,” Lyric says.
“But judgedbythe Vertex Seal,” Never spits.
Iriset Sunderer slaps her hand on the edge of the table. “It doesn’t matternow,” she insists with a strange emphasis, glaring at the Moon-Eater’s old friend.
But River wonders. An wonders why these people are together, when they clearly are not all old friends. An wonders what avertex sealis, and what a sunderer is, and why the Moon-Eater is laughing suddenly while nobody else seems to get the joke.
Then Eliri asks, “What is Aharté’s Holy Design?” and River wonders most of all if an will ever be able to keep her safe.
Uniquely positioned
Lyric is quiet, at first, when Eliri the Adept Hand asks about the Holy Design. It is so many things to him. His life has been dictated by it, for it, and as he thinks about where to begin explaining, Lyric is overwhelmed suddenly withmissingit.
There’s a tightness in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say, it’s true, but on top of that, he can’t.
“I’ll explain it,” Iriset mutters in mirané, nudging him with the butt of her dinner knife.
That’s enough to make him open his mouth. His voice is too quiet, lacking authority. “The Holy Design is two things, really. It is a way to… organize the forces, to balance them within architectural design. And it is a greater plan, a design of Aharté’s, The One Who Loves Silence. What Aharté wills to become of the world, of Aharté’s people.”
“Religious,” River says.
“More of a cult,” the Moon-Eater suggests, waggling his eyebrows. “Aharté is Sarian, isn’t she?”
“Historically,” Lyric agrees. “Aharté is the only god of—of where we come from.”
“That’s not true,” Iriset says, almost sneering.
“The most important, then.” Lyric looks at her.
Iriset glares right into his eyes. “Unfortunately.”
Irsu River laughs once, lounging against the low table, nearly in Eliri’s lap. The feathers in the small king’s thick brown hair could be woven in, just decoration, but Lyric knows better. He’d rather focus on River and Eliri than Iriset right now, despite the obvious evidence of human architecture in every blink of River’s eyes and the glint of Eliri’s claws.
“And it is Aharté’s will that human design be forbidden?” Eliri asks gently. “Why?”
“Human design causes more harm than good outside of Aharté’s own creation,” Lyric answers, just as gently.
Though Eliri the Chimera seems thoughtful, her large gray eyes unemotional, Iriset beside him scoffs. “That is such a patronizing reason.” She says the last in mirané, as if she doesn’t know how to say it in Old Sarenpet.
“Iriset, this isn’t—” Lyric switches to mirané. “I’m not saying nothing good has ever been done with human architecture, just that—”
“You don’t trust people at all not to destroy each other and themselves, Iknow.”
“I’m sorry recent events have not changed my mind about trust,” he says, leaning toward her because he wants it to hurt.
