Chapter 21 #2
“Iriset Sunderer,” Amado Chimera says. “Through an unprecedented sharing of resources across fortresses and design colleges in the aftermath of this emergency, experts on geo-design such as Helica Silkhair, as well as city infrastructure and combat tracing”—Amado gestures at two groups of people in each category—“have worked together to trace the tremors that rocked the crater city six nights ago on the Night of Chimeras. Through mapping the known locations of effect, and using something called a prediction diagram—”
“Reversal,” interrupts one of the women in the infrastructure team.
“—the prediction reversal diagram points here, to this crater where Iriset and Lyric Aharté landed after falling like a star from the sky.”
“This caused earthquakes?” Iriset murmurs, remembering the feel of the anchor she’d found when she visited immediately after waking. It hadn’t seemed like more than an anchor spiked hard into the earth.
“City leaders would like to contain it, or remove it, but didn’t want to touch anything without consulting Iriset and Lyric Aharté,” Amado says. “Though the Moon-Eater has made clear that Lyric remains in recovery and Iriset is the expert.”
Iriset nods vaguely, already focused on the problem as she pushes past the crowd. There’s a thick-stepped ladder lying down the slope of the crater, built up now with some clay and even a rope rail tied to spikes at waist level. But Iriset doesn’t grip it, dashing down the ladder to the bottom.
The crater’s valley is more disturbed than before, with two thin cracks crossing each other in—yes, Iriset glances at the sun.
It’s harder without the vertex moon as a reference, but she thinks she can tell from the position of the sun the exact cardinal directions, and the cracks point in all four. But not… exactly.
Iriset moves around the central anchor, studying it.
She takes off her thin jacket, baring her arms, and toes off her sandals.
With one of the laces, she pulls her hair off her neck.
One crack is nearly vertical, north to south but both ends angle a little west. The horizontal crack generally points east and west but bends gently southeast and southwest like it’s the wings of a bird.
As if the cracks aren’t crossing in the exact center of an array but…
Iriset crouches, putting her hand over the center. It’s tingling with ecstatic force, but she can also feel the other three, the spiral of flow, the sinking falling, and that effervescent lift of rising force. They work together in a cycle like breathing. From the anchor outward. Spreading evenly.
Unlike before, when it felt mostly driving down to anchor whatever this landing was deep into the world, now it is expanding. It’s not an anchor. It’s a knot.
She glances toward the central towers of the Moon-Eater’s fortress, which is probably where the palace of the Vertex Seal would be.
Will be? And so this is where the temple will be.
Back in the temple, she unleashed whatever array held the Moon-Eater down, and the blowback, or something, brought them here.
Exact same place, different time. With enough power, she could probably slingshot them back, because this infant array likely wants to be a massive loop.
A circle. That’s how it’s breathing. Nausea twists low in Iriset’s guts.
With the stylus she’s been keeping in her sleeve now, she sketches the outline of one of the most basic elements of Holy Design: Aharté’s knot.
It’s eight lines and two overlapping squares, with all points interconnected.
It can be turned until it’s ready to be set, and Iriset draws lines away from the anchor, then steps back.
The earth under her shivers.
Iriset’s bones themselves seem to resonate with the vibrations of the array.
She can’t see it, but she can imagine it, and feel it.
It feels like—it feels like standing in the center of the mirané princes on the Day of the Crowning Sun, when the empire’s most holy array—the Holy Design itself—is revitalized. Here is an echo of it only, a promise.
This is the first knot of an untethered array, a massive, centuries- and city-spanning array.
It’s trying hard to pull itself into alignment with the Great Steeples at each cardinal corner.
With the perfect, balanced alignment of the palace of the Vertex Seal and the spokes of forces threading intricately throughout Moonshadow City.
But this isn’t Moonshadow City yet. There are no steeples. Yet.
This anchor isn’t going to stop trying to reach them. It needs the steeples. Meanwhile there will be more earthquakes.
“Fuck,” Iriset whispers. When she was observing—feeling—the rivation of the Moon-Eater’s prison, she thought there needed to be four points in the central knot, but she saw only two. But it was only two points then. The other points are here.
Iriset presses her palm to the center of the impact.
If she could sunder already, maybe another answer would present itself.
But right now if she tries to destroy it—or recommends the Moon-Eater destroy it—there’s no reason to think it won’t explode through the city anyway, and maybe even explode back and forward through time.
Worst of all, Iriset did this. When she was bleeding and furious, standing on a centuries-old secret, and ripped apart a knot just like this to free the Moon-Eater. She set this in motion.
So, there is a massive array attempting to unfurl in the center of the crater city, anchored deep in the crust of the planet, and yes, Iriset put it there—but it wasn’t intentional!
Nobody could expect her to predict a consequence like time travel, but Iriset might have realized the destructive potential in demolishing the pin that held the structural design of an entire empire in place if she’d thought for just a moment before reaching in to tear open the Moon-Eater’s prison.
Nevertheless Iriset feels perfectly justified in telling the group of experts and small kings and design bosses or whatever they call themselves gathered around the smaller arrival crater that yes, she knows what this is, and yes, she can definitely figure out how to save the entire city, but first she needs to lie the fuck down and then make herself a new eye.
So could they please get some kind of emergency stasis field in place to buy some time?
When her eye is ready, she’ll lead a task force on the Moon-Eater’s behalf and get it all settled in no time at all.
(Ha ha ha, she thinks, perhaps a little hysterically.)
The Moon-Eater, standing beside her with his arms crossed over his chest, looks very smug.
“Will there be more earthquakes?” someone asks, an edge of panic in their voice.
“Probably,” Iriset answers. “Definitely. That’s what whatever stasis fields are available will help with. While I, this designer, figure out how the forces will be directly affected and in what cascading effect.”
“Iriset Sunderer,” Amado Chimera calls out, “would a comprehensive map of the crater city, including all lines of force and design-pockets, be useful?”
“Sure,” Iriset says, flopping one hand around.
The Moon-Eater adds, “Make sure it’s done, then, Amado. Everyone.”
Then he scoops Iriset up in his arms and leaps into the air, laughing merrily. “You’re cold, sunderer,” he says, face bent close to her ear.
Reaching her free hand up to pat his jaw, she accidentally hooks a finger in his open laughing mouth. He nips at her, and Iriset bares her teeth. They fly quickly, and it is cold this high. This late in the year.
The wind dies down as the Moon-Eater hovers. Only gentle gusts buffet them.
She looks up at the Moon-Eater’s stony expression. The sky behind him is deep blue, and as she stares the light changes as a puffy cloud masks the sun. Suddenly she’s aware they’re just floating here, still and quite high over the fortress complex. She wonders what people see from below.
“Is this array anchor that is damaging my city a part of your Holy Design?” he finally asks, gaze cast far.
“Not mine,” Iriset says, shoving at him before she remembers she is literally quads of paces in the air. “Ah, but—yes. I think it’s connecting us, this time, to that time. Maybe… through you.”
The Moon-Eater’s lashes flutter. “Because I am the Holy Design in the future. My unraveled energy fuels it. So it can’t exist here as long as I exist in the way that I am.”
“I definitely don’t think we should tell anybody else about that part.”
But Shade looks back at her with a wry grin. “Ah, Iriset, it is true you are no politician.”
Iriset scowls.
“Several people at that crater just now would delight to know that a potential solution to these tremors is my destruction. You could find some powerful allies.”
“Gross,” she mutters.
The Moon-Eater laughs and sinks down, down, down to drop her off at her balcony. He leaves without another word. Iriset is too tired to care much.