Chapter 24 #3
But the cardinal—the astronomer—leans forward. “Another world, perhaps? There are theories, well founded, in Lightning Revelation that other worlds exist among the stars, and even near to this world, relatively speaking. Perhaps the anomaly star was a gateway.”
At least two people snort, and the Moon-Eater laughs approvingly. Iriset looks at Lyric, who seems shocked. She says, “Not a bad guess. It could be true. Perhaps all fairies are from a different world.”
“Nonsense,” says the striking commander-philosopher. “These new friends speak the language of this city, and the array is obviously designed in the traditions taught by the Moon-Eater. There is no need to bring imaginary other worlds into this, Elfr.”
“Imaginary! Does Intrinsic Foundation stick so close to the ground it cannot imagine beyond known rocks and trees?”
Iriset ignores them, taking her stylus and the tiny funnel-anchors she made yesterday out of her bag.
First she goes to the eastern point of the diagnostic display, between Lyric and Eliri.
She does not let herself pay attention to Lyric, to how close he is and the tilt of his head as he studies her.
Iriset plants her rising anchor, sticking it with ecstatic buttons, then tosses a thread of rising up and swings around to the southern point, where Amado nods to her.
She does the same at her seat in the west, then gets to the north, between the arguing designer and astronomer.
She clears her throat and moves between them.
They lean back, affronted, and Iriset puts the anchor in place but doesn’t activate anything.
“It doesn’t matter where Iriset is from,” she declares.
“Because I know how to complete the array, and what it will do.”
Unfortunately, she thinks sourly. “The array,” she continues, once everyone is looking at her, “is a very core design at home. The most basic, one might argue.” Iriset nods at Shade, who stands, then leaps into the air.
He walks up invisible stairs until he stands—floats—over the heart of the array.
Then he stretches out like he’s lying splayed midair, his hair falling over his shoulders to trail down like vines toward the table.
“There are several layers to the power structure of the array, but what matters most right now,” Iriset says, “for the purpose of completing it, are four external channel points. That’s what the central knot is reaching for and not finding, which results in the release of excess energy.”
She nods, and together she and the Moon-Eater charge the force-threads, and the diagnostic array shivers.
In the center, the spiraling knots flare and then snap out to each funnel-anchor—where the Great Steeples of Moonshadow City would be in relation.
Every stray thread and strand stretches, pulls, and then resettles in an approximation of the Holy Design of the crater.
Iriset slides her gaze across the design, admiring its simplicity, but wishing it wasn’t the case. She glances at Lyric to find him already looking at her—she wonders if he ever looked away at all. He must recognize Aharté’s design in his bones. He says, “This alone will settle the metadesign.”
Narrowing her eyes at his use of a word he probably didn’t know until two minutes ago, she says, “It is enough.”
“It will completely redesign the architecture of the city!” complains the Chimera city planner, half in awe, half in horror.
“How can this even be contemplated?” the asshole Berrik demands. “Just because these strangers claim it?”
“And the Moon-Eater,” reminds Amado Chimera.
Berrik seems to draw himself together, and calmly but coldly says, “Since when has the Moon-Eater cared about the people of the city?”
Shade hums like it’s a good point.
“The destruction would be worse than the earthquakes and spider mines,” agrees Helica, but thoughtfully.
Mirea says, “That can be mitigated with careful preparation.”
“For small kings who agree,” Amado Chimera says. “This is a vast undertaking.”
“There will be many who do not,” Berrik says. “For many reasons.”
River says through pink smoke, “How is completing this a better outcome than the destruction of breaking the array?”
Iriset shrugs. “Controlled redesign instead of explosions. Warning, exact specifications.”
“Balance,” Lyric murmurs.
“But what is the power source?” the Chimera city planner asks, waving ans hands as if an might find the answer in midair. An seems less against it, and more simply overwhelmed.
“The Moon-Eater!” the Moon-Eater crows, talking to them from his ridiculous position.
“Is the red god so strong?” Eliri asks quietly. She knows the answer; she’s the only one besides Shade, Iriset, Lyric, and the missing Never who knows the answer.
The Moon-Eater grins. “When Iriset Sunderer takes this god apart, the energy unleashed will do everything.”
Amado Chimera meets his blood-red eyes. “Explain, please, Moon-Eater.”
“Amado will get what Amado wants,” Shade says silkily. “A city without a god.”
The small king presses his lips together, skin around his eyes tightening. “This small king wants what is best for the crater city,” he says very tightly.
“Of course, Amado,” soothes the Moon-Eater. He’s so mean.
“Iriset Sunderer will kill the Moon-Eater?” asks the artist Sipipia.
Iriset shakes her head. “It’s transformation. Unraveling. A technique well known at home. But more intimate this time, because it isn’t death. Not for the Moon-Eater.”
“Not for a sunderer,” Shade puts in.
“What is sundering?” demands the Intrinsic Foundation commander-philosopher, her green glare bright.
Iriset sighs, wishing she could just work and let others explain. “It’s a technique for creating a new force, a very powerful force. When I—when Iriset unravels the Moon-Eater, Shade will live in a new form. Shade will be this metadesign.”
“Shade already is a metadesign,” the Moon-Eater grumbles.
“But—” Sipipia looks like she might cry.
Shade sinks down, sitting in the air several paces above the diagnostic design. “Ah, sweet Sipipia.”
Helica Silkhair interrupts, her hand flat for attention.
She is drawn with tension, though, clearly affected by the shocking conversation.
“This theory is sound, except it would only account for settling the metadesign. All the power in the world the Moon-Eater might be, that will not hold the destructive power of this design inert.” Helica is on her feet now, too, a little line between her brows.
“This funnel-anchor pulls the threads straight, in a very reliable-looking balance, but it’s not the natural order of design forces.
Forces flow and snap, not settle. An array like this must be maintained. ”
“It should be cyclical,” the astronomer cardinal mutters, frowning but also thoughtful.
Iriset wonders if he’s glad for a problem to chew upon that is not the sundering of their red god.
“Like the phases of the moon—something that is ever-changing but steady and predictable. Some design declension built in.”
The sharp commander-philosopher of the College of Intrinsic Foundation laughs once. “So the cardinal is a designer after all.”
He glares at her, but Helica holds her hand up. “This designer wishes to know how Iriset Sunderer thinks to maintain the tension of this massive design.”
Iriset nods at the cardinal. “The moon.”
“The moon?” The cardinal nearly leaps to his feet. “The moon spends half its time on the other side of the world.”
“Not if we catch it,” Iriset says.
Everyone argues, exclaims, denies, but for Lyric, River, and the Moon-Eater floating above them all like that very moon of Aharté.
Even Eliri shakes her head, gray eyes huge as she questions Iriset.
Iriset shrugs at Eliri and plops down into her chair to wait.
Since she finished her wine, she reaches for Shade’s and drinks it.
She hears, harness the moon, impossible, change the face of design, level buildings, more earthquakes or worse—but predictable at least. Iriset doesn’t want to be here for their arguing.
She doesn’t want to re-create the Holy Design.
She doesn’t care if the crater city crumbles!
She doesn’t. The only reason she’s explaining this is because the Moon-Eater wants her to and—it is her fault.
(She’s lying to herself, she does want to do it, but not for faith or philosophy or to go home.
Iriset wants to do it because she sees how she can.
And once she can do something, doesn’t she have to?)
Suddenly Lyric stands. His expression is calm, though Iriset can see the tension in his shoulders, the tight bend of his knuckles. He waits, and it isn’t long before everyone quiets, looking at him expectantly.
“It is not impossible, what Iriset claims,” Lyric says. “To catch the moon itself. Lyric knows, because that is the case in Lyric’s home.”
Absolute silence is the only answer. Iriset realizes her mouth is hanging open. Again.
“Iriset should be allowed to implement this solution,” Lyric continues. “Because it is for the greatest good of the crater city. How else will the array be calmed? How else will the wild forces of the crater be balanced?”
“Do they truly need to be?” the artist asks.
“They must be,” Lyric says.
“Because Lyric Aharté and Iriset Sunderer came here,” says the small king of Sharp-Shin, who has not spoken since arriving.
Lyric bows his head. “Yes. And that cannot be undone.”
“How dare these destroyers discuss this calmly, when it is because of the anomaly star, because of Lyric Aharté and Iriset Sunderer that so many have already died, so many more might?” demands Berrik.
“What has been done has been done,” Lyric says. “The only way forward is to act now.”
“Where are Lyric and Iriset from, where the moon is supposedly caught in stasis?” Sharp-Shin asks. “Why did the anomaly star appear? Who is Lyric Aharté and who is Iriset Sunderer?”
“Here,” Lyric says. “Lyric was born in this crater, and Iriset, too.”
Iriset stands slowly. “Lyric, what are you doing?” she whispers in mirané.
But the Moon-Eater is laughing; he looks like he’ll clap any moment, like a toddler surrounded by hilarious puppies.
“It’s when,” Eliri the Adept Hand realizes suddenly. “Not where.”
“That’s the missing piece,” Helica Silkhair cries, pointing at the knot. “It’s cyclical, but the real anchor is in another time! Impossible!”
Lyric only stands there, still and calm, and Iriset cannot believe him. She stares through the cacophony at him until he looks her way. And unbelievably, incredibly, Lyric méra Esmail, the last Vertex Seal, winks at her with her own fucking eye.