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2.16 In Which the Dark Lord Suffers the Little Children
🕑 Added 2021-10-15 02:55:10 +0000 UTCI finally learned about Fflyr funerary customs that day.
They did cremate their dead. Not in crematoriums, though, they used open-air pyres. That would not work ordinarily—it takes an immense amount of heat to reduce a human body to ash, and I would know—but the Fflyr had the advantage of asauthec, which it turned out could be properly blended and concentrated to burn at ludicrous temperatures. There was, in fact, a specific funerary blend which was not only intensely hot and not very bright, but scented.
As the priest in the mourning chapel explained to me, the resident ignorant foreigner, burning human flesh results in the smell of roasting meat, which apparently is universally appetizing and thus deeply disturbing to people attending a funeral. I had fortunately never had to think about things like this, but it made a horrible kind of sense. Funerary asauthec, I was told, smelled overpoweringly like rain and lightning, and was the reason the Fflyr associated storms with death. So, petrichor and ozone, basically. I wondered how they got refined khora oil to smell like that. Alchemy was pretty spooky stuff.
Mourning chapels were the Radiant Convocation’s equivalent of funeral homes. They were all owned and run by the central church and staffed by priests. Apparently there were a lot more of them in Gwyllthean than actual temples meant for worship—because obviously—and were a major source of the Convocation’s income. Thus, while the priests in the nice middle ring mourning chapel raised their eyebrows when I wanted them to conduct services for five Gutter Rats, one look at my coin and they were instantly all solemn professionalism.
Salvation awaits those who can pay. As it always was and always will be.
The proper time for the actual ceremony was dusk, according to my quietly delivered crash course in Sanorite religion. The daylight was Sanora’s domain while Virya ruled the night, so the dead were sent off in the twilight between them, so as to be fairly judged by both sisters. To do so during full daylight or darkness would be to try to tilt the disposition of the soul toward one or the other, which would have unpredictable effects on the judging and likely invite punishment for the mortal mourners from either goddess, or both.
It was funny. On Earth I’d dismiss all this as superstition. Here, I knew for a fact that the goddesses were real, and I was still forced to dismiss it as superstition, because I also knew for a fact that they didn’t care.
Obviously, I didn’t criticize their religious practices. Ultimately these things are for the people left behind, not for the dead. It was truly comforting, having a ritual surrounding death, even if the ritual was unfamiliar to me and based on bullshit. As the main beneficiary of this solemn routine, I just embraced it without comment.
For the entire day leading up to the cremation, the dead were laid on altars beneath the dome of the mourning chapel, which was surrounded by benches upon which the mourners would keep a vigil until dusk fell. The priests cleaned the bodies and dressed them in simple white robes; coins were used to weigh their eyelids closed, and strips of white cloth draped across that, their ends weighted atop the altar to each side of the head by small carved figurines. Apparently these were mythical creatures unique to the Radiant Convocation’s customs, an incorporation of Fflyr folktalkes into Sanorite practices. Food was prepared and placed by the deceased, their favorite meal in life to give them a comforting send off to the other realm. Nearly heatless torches burned around the room with another unique blend of scented asauthec, this one with a smooth yet spicy aroma that apparently repelled insects and crawns.
I hadn’t known these kids. I didn’t even know their names, much less what they liked. I’d bought each a couple of those meat and vegetable skewers in pepper sauce that Gilder, Benit, and Radon had all loved so much, as well as sour strawberry tarts and some of the taffy-like chewy candy also available from the street vendors. Stuff I figured children would enjoy. Funny enough, these were much higher-quality and more expensive treats that I’d purchased from middle ring eateries, because the vendor stands in the Gutters were all in ruins, thanks to me.
And then there was nothing but to keep the vigil. The priests retreated politely, leaving us alone with the dead.
It was just the four of us; none of these children’s actual friends could even get here in the middle ring, nor could I reach out to them with the pogrom still winding down. And even if I could, my suspicions about who must have enabled this would have prevented me. So they were seen off to the next world by strangers. Me, the interloping asshole responsible for their deaths, and my handful of minions.
Aster and Nazralind were suitably solemn for the occasion. At some point while I was making arrangements they’d apparently found time for a chat, because Aster had stopped treating Naz like an annoying idiot inexplicably following me around and more with the uncertainty of someone who’d never been in the company of a Highlady before and now was doing so under circumstances in which none of the familiar social hierarchies applied. Lamm had been smuggled out of the prison by Norovena during the hubbub, and was with us as well, as I didn’t consider it safe for anyone with me to be out of my sight and therefore the range of my Heal spell so long as we were in Gwyllthean. This was doubtless not what he’d expected of his first duty in my employ, so he just kept his mouth shut and played along. Smart man.
The entrance to the mourning chapel was cleverly designed to allow ingress without any noise to disturb the mourners: while it was in use, the front doors were propped open, and its entryway was a winding sequence of sharp ninety-degree turns with multiple heavy curtains to muffle sound from outside. Thus, I didn’t realize someone else had arrived until I heard his boots on the tile floor as he approached the altars, and even those were quieter than they should have been.
When I raised my head, Lamm was already closely watching the new arrival, but saying nothing, clearly detecting no threat. The other two looked up in surprise at his approach.
He paced slowly across the floor, his armor unnervingly whisper-quiet when it seemed like it should have clanked like a bag of cans. That armor gleamed under the light of the torches and narrow windows as if it had just been polished, which I suspected wasn’t true. It was just that magical. Plates of silvery white metal that almost resembled platinum, revealing a black mesh undercoat at the joints which looked to me more like modern kevlar or something than any chain mail I’d seen, and its pristine tabard and overcoat of Sanorite colors: white and red, trimmed in gold. The knight in shining armor stepped softly up to the nearest of the altars, and he knelt.
Rhydion lowered his head and remained in that posture in silence while we all looked on. It took me a confused moment to realize he was probably reciting a prayer, just not out loud. We watched from our respective seats on the benches around the walls until, minutes later, the paladin finally stood. I straightened my back, waiting for him to approach.
Instead, he stepped over to the next altar and knelt by the head of the girl there. She couldn’t have been more than nine.
In the silence of the chapel, Rhydion paid respects in full to each victim, taking whatever time it took for every prayer without hurry. I found I appreciated the gesture. This took him on a circuit of the periphery of the chapel, as the priests had arranged the movable altars in as symmetrical a position as they could, with each body’s head facing outward.
Only when the business of his faith had been fully attended to did the paladin of Sanora rise again and approach me. Armor still making only the softest of whispers, he seated himself on the bench at my side, less than an arm’s length away.
“I mourn with you,” he said. His voice was soft, but still prominent amid the stillness of the dead.
I nodded once. It was quiet for another moment before I found myself speaking without really having planned to. “You must’ve had a busy morning. I heard the King’s Guild formed the first line of attack.”
“All of us who were present in the city,” he said, his helmet shifting in a slight nod of his own. “And I have spent the remainder of the morning in the Gutters. For me to forcibly intervene with the Kingsguard would create…repercussions. I avoid causing such shockwaves, as they are always felt by the countless innocent rather than myself. As you have seen today. Still. I find that soldiers are less inclined to brutalize commoners on a street on which I am standing, staring at them with a sword in my hand.”
I let out a shuddering breath, distorted by just the faintest echo of the bitter laugh resonating in my brain. “Well. You’ve just always gotta show me up, huh. Least that’s something. And here all I’ve done today is murder five children.”
Aster’s head turned toward me in a sharp motion, her face tensing in an expression of pain. I didn’t meet her gaze.
“That is a difficult claim to credit,” Rhydion murmured, “coming from a man who has repeatedly shown a soft spot for orphans. And who clearly grieves their deaths.”
My left shoulder jerked in an involuntary semi-shrug. “Yeah, well. I showed a soft spot for orphans and then antagonized a soulless monster, so it comes down to the same thing, pretty much. This outcome was…mathematical. There was no excuse for me not to see this coming, and I did nothing to stop it. Whoever actually held the knife, this is on me.”
Rhydion’s helmet shifted slightly as if he were looking at me sidelong, and then after a moment returned to facing forward, toward the bodies in the center of the room. “I confess, I was prepared for you to blame me for failing to act on your urging sooner.”
“What…oh. Y’mean that business where I tried to use you as a human shield without explaining what was actually going on while you repeatedly told me you weren’t interested?” I shrugged again. “I guess if I tilt my head and squint real hard I could probably come up with a way for this to be your fault, but… Meh. My heart’s not in it.”
“It still amazes me,” he said in a bare whisper that was only audible due to the quiet of the room, “how even in the midst of mourning, you can be so utterly consumed by rage.”
At that, I turned toward him, frowning. “The hell are you even talking about, man?”
What was with this guy?
I mean, well, he was right. The rage was there, the same blinding torrent of white-hot madness that had impelled me through Cat Alley in a whirlwind of magic and blood. It twined around me like an affectionate cat, its purr a muffled roar of incipient violence. I deliberately kept it stoked to a low simmer; I was going to need it very soon. The business of this moment required quiet and calm. But this business would end at dusk, and then I was going to unleash carnage such as this blighted little kingdom had never imagined.
But he didn’t know that. And even if he somehow did, this was hardly the time or place.
Clearly I wasn’t the only one who thought so. Aster rose smoothly to her feet, took the three steps over to stand alongside us, and stared down her nose at the paladin with an icy expression.
“This is a vigil.”
Her tone was quiet, as suited the setting, but it was pure steel and it brought me a surge of warmth toward her. The last time she and Rhydion had been in the same room she’d been agog with hero-worship. Now…
His helmet dipped once in a nod, and without rising he held out his hands and folded them down. “Very right. That was an utterly thoughtless thing to day. I apologize most humbly.”
Aster raised her chin, her expression not lightening, but after a moment she gave him a jerky little nod and retreated back to her own seat.
“All’s forgiven,” I said with a sigh. “Now of all times I’ve got no room to complain. I mean, unless you’ve murdered five children recently, who the hell am I to criticize?”
His helmet shifted again, angling toward me. “Lord Seiji, I will speak frankly.”
“Oh, good. Great. That’s fantastic news.”
“As I would to any less experienced comrade, and as one who has walked this road backward and forward and knows what you need to hear right now. If your failure has led to this, then you will have to find a way to live with that.”
I flinched. I hated myself for betraying that kind of weakness, especially in front of him, but it happened before I could even think to control myself.
“You must take responsibility,” Rhydion continued inexorably, “and above all, be certain you understand your mistake, so as never to repeat it. And you must not forget that it was a mistake. Life is unpredictable, and we are imperfect. Terrible events will happen, and we will all fail at some point. But what defines a person is their decisions. What we choose to do with the inscrutable fates we are given.”
He lifted one hand and grasped my shoulder, his armored fingers squeezing just firmly enough not to bruise.
“You say you as good as murdered them yourself, and in that, you are crucially wrong. You did not choose this, Seiji. I know it doesn’t feel like that matters now, when you’re sitting amid the ruin, but I promise you. The difference is all-important.”
I tried to draw a steadying breath, but it still shuddered embarrassingly on the way back out. “Well. Much as I’m annoyed by you preaching at me right now of all times, I get the feeling that’s actually really good advice. So…thanks.”
The helmet shifted again in another slight nod. “The first time my own ineptitude caused a disaster like this, I was told something which helped me a great deal at the time, and has ever since. Evil is an aberration, and anyone who has not dealt with it intimately can be forgiven for failing to expect it. It is one thing to know, intellectually, that it exists. It’s one thing to see all the violence people do to one another in their fear and greed and anger. But this…” He stared at the five slain children, and shook his head. “No one normal could do this, or even think of it. You failed to anticipate it because you are not diabolically insane. That’s not a personal failing; quite the opposite. Now, you know better, and will be prepared next time.”
“I honestly don’t know how you can look around at the world and think that. People are the only real monsters. Most avoid being outright evil purely by being too stupid to pull it off.”
“Nihilism can seem like it offers comfort,” he said, “but that is a trap. Like drink or drug, a small amount now and then will do you little harm, but once you come to depend on it, it has already destroyed you. In my experience, nearly all the harm people do to one another is rooted in ignorance. People want to live good lives, to work well and care for each other, to be part of something greater than themselves. All too often, the confusion of life can make it seem the only way forward is to step on another’s back. That is just part of the mortal condition. This…” He looked again at the bodies on their altars, and lowered his tone. “…is another thing entirely.”
Fucking hell, this guy and his platitudes. Gods spare me the attention of religious people.
“So that’s your line, then?” I retorted, hearing a depth of bitterness I didn’t intend in my own voice. “People are basically good?”
“People are basically people,” Rhydion said quietly. “Let the philosophers debate good and evil. Those of us with our boots in the mud have more urgent things to do. We are all just…people. Every one of us, flawed beyond repair, but defined by our capacity to be something greater than the brute animals nature would make us. I think there is no greater loss than the sudden end of all that potential.” His armor made only the faintest of rasps as his shoulders shifted in a sigh, his gaze still fixed on the dead. “No greater crime than to inflict it.”
I studied the paladin for a few seconds, but there was nothing to see but that inscrutable visor. My own gaze returned to the children without my willing it, and I shook my head. “Well. Guess we can agree on that much.”
“What will you do next, Lord Seiji?”
“I should think that was obvious,” I said softly, staring at them. “First, tend to the dead. Then, the soon-to-be dead. The children deserve the proper respect; it’s completely inadequate, but there’s nothing more I can do for them now. Then, I’m going to go find those responsible and make such a horrific spectacle of their annihilation that no one on this island, no matter how depraved, ever considers doing something like this again.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Lamm’s face shift toward me for a moment, then back to resume his watch over the chapel’s entrances. He nodded slightly as if to himself. There was a man who understood.
“I’ve tried that,” Rhydion said, just above a whisper. “It doesn’t work. I think if you’re being honest, you don’t really expect it to. The real disappointment will come when it doesn’t make you feel better.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
Again he sighed faintly, then rose. “Regardless, I will not interfere or dissuade you, Lord Seiji.”
“Oh?” That actually surprised me.
“There are some lessons that can only be taught by experience. And besides…” The paladin looked at the dead children for another moment before turning away. “Even knowing I should feel otherwise, I cannot make myself see any suffering visited on the monster who did this as wrong. Useless, at worst. I will keep the children in my prayers, Lord Seiji. Goddess guide your steps.”
“Oh, she will,” I whispered.
He studied me in quizzical silence for a moment after that cryptic comment, then nodded once, turned, and departed the chapel.
“I’m a little surprised,” I murmured after he had been gone for a couple of minutes. “I was expecting him to try to recruit me again. He has every other time we’ve talked.”
“This is hardly the time or place,” Aster said quietly. “Of all people, a man of faith would recognize that.”
“So that was the great paladin,” Nazralind murmured. “He was…nice. And pompous. I feel oddly let down, but now that I’ve said that out loud I don’t know what else I should’ve expected.”
Lamm cleared his throat. “Still a vigil, here.”
Naz was still in her disguise; I couldn’t see her blush under the makeup and beard, but from the way she ducked her head I was pretty sure she had. For my part, I didn’t feel a need to call her down. Sanorite tradition notwithstanding, we were here to honor five Gutter Rats. I had a feeling they’d enjoy being sent off with some friendly banter a lot more than pomp and ceremony.
A familiar buzz heralded a much more welcome visitor. I looked up to behold Biribo descending from one of the upper windows, making a beeline for his usual place at my shoulder.
“Mission accomplished, boss,” he reported. Even he kept his voice to a hush in recognition of the atmosphere; I guess some things are universal. “The ladies are up to speed and sitting tight at the old village, awaiting orders. Goose says they’ve had no sign of anyone approaching them or being in that patch of khora at all. I told ‘em it’d be tonight, and was assured they’ll be ready to move.”
“Good work. Thanks, Biribo.” Good, that was the last end tied up for today. Norovena had immediately moved to secure everyone on both Minifrit’s and Lady Gray’s lists, so all those who Gray thought even might be tied to me were under watch and being prepared to be moved out of the city. I was told a lot of them were understandably quite unhappy with this, for which I couldn’t blame them, but they would have to suck it up unless they wanted to get knifed by an invisible maniac. It wasn’t fair, but that was life on Ephemera. Auldmaer’s company now had a permanent King’s Guild presence keeping watch; thanks to his invaluable assistance in the plan last night, it was even financed by Clan Aelthwyn. He was reaping a grand harvest of prestige and business connections out of this; for him it would be a huge win as long as he stayed un-murdered. “I need you to do some discreet scouting for the next phase.”
Biribo actually sighed, dropping several centimeters and letting his head hang as if exhausted. “Got it, boss. What’s the plan?”
Instead of relaying the plan, I paused, studying him closely. It was a little hard to tell, him being a small lizard and all, but now that I looked his body language really did seem worn out.
“Hey, Biribo. I still don’t know all the rules about this Blessing stuff; is it true familiars suffer if they’re not near their…person?”
“Well, not… I mean, yes and no, boss.” He flicked his tongue out to taste the air. “A familiar has a strong compulsion to be near their Blessed. Long as we are near, it’s not noticeable. The farther we go from them, and the longer we’re away, the more it builds up, till there comes a point where no familiar has enough willpower to stay away and we have to come straight back. The only way it gets to the point of suffering is if we’re actively prevented from staying close. That’s like…having an itch you can’t scratch, everywhere at once. Doesn’t take much of that to drive somebody crazy with misery.”
I nodded slowly, glancing up at the window through which he’d come. It was still early in the afternoon; there was time.
“Okay, never mind scouting just yet, then. Hang out with us, catch your breath. We can do that when you’re feeling recovered.”
“Thanks, boss,” he said in clear gratitude. “I appreciate it.”
To my surprise, Biribo actually settled down on my shoulder rather than hovering over it as he usually did. That was…different. Not unpleasant, I supposed, and the quiet better suited the vigil than the buzz of his wings. I leaned back against the wall behind me, letting the silence resume. The five of us, now, kept watch over the dead as time slowly ticked past.
It was another hour into our silent watch before the next visitor arrived. This one was quieter even than Rhydion had been in his obviously magical armor. She didn’t need stealth artifacts to avoid making noise, though. I undoubtedly wouldn’t have seen her coming had Biribo not muttered a warning into my ear and then darted away to hide inside my coat.
But he did, and so I had turned my head to watch the entrance when she crept into view.
It was a Gutter Rat. The girl was… Ten? Eleven? For as much as people seemed to associate me with children, I sure wasn’t any good at guessing their ages. The rest was obvious, though, from her threadbare clothes, wild ratty hair, hollow cheeks and the smudges of dirt ground into her skin.
Tiptoeing in well-practiced silence, she was staring ahead at the altars…at the bodies. I saw the moment of recognition, saw her face crumple, and felt it like a knife in my own gut. Then she saw me watching her and froze, every bit the startled rabbit on the verge of bolting.
“It’s all right.” I kept my voice low, calm, and moved nothing but my mouth. I feared the merest twitch would send her into flight. “I think you have every right to be here.”
The girl hesitated, tense; she glanced around at everyone else in the room. Aster and Lamm had the same instincts and remained fixed where they were, she with a gentle smile. Nazralind… She waved, and I could tell she was wearing a welcoming smile even through her fake beard, that was how big and confident the expression was. She also seemed to have forgotten she was disguised as a scruffy outdoorsman, which made that gesture a very different matter than it would have been coming from a pretty elf.
Fortunately she was clear across the room, so the creepy bearded man with the skin condition didn’t spook our visitor into fleeing, though she hesitated, staring warily.
“What’s your name?” I asked softly.
She looked back at me, nervously, clearly considering whether she should answer. But in the end, she did so, barely above a whisper. “I’m Aenit.”
“Aenit.” I nodded once. “I’m Lord Seiji.”
“You’re Gilder’s ma—uh, contact.”
“Gilder’s mark, yes,” I said with a wry smile. I immediately regretted my moment of humor as Aenit shrank back, obviously expecting me to take offense and dispense punishment. Instead I kept still, and after a second she seemed reassured.
“Is…is Gilder… Is he like…”
“Gilder is fine,” I said firmly. Quietly, but firmly. “So are Benit and Radon. They’re living at my place, now, where they’re safe from Lady Gray and Uncle Gently. After the way they helped me, I do everything I can to protect them and make sure they’re okay. I wish…” To my mortification, I had to pause and physically swallow down a painful lump that rose in my throat. “I wish I’d thought to protect the others. It just never occurred to me she’d do something like this. It’s so… This is my fault.” My eyes turned back to the five bodies, unable to look away.
“This is… That’s just life. That’s the Gutters.” I could see her struggling to push down the tears, even as she stared at the bodies. The look of hard disinterest didn’t suit her at all, but she was working to perfect it. “There’s no sense in getting…”
“Hey.” Slowly, I turned toward her. Not getting off the bench, but angling my body in her direction and leaning forward, bracing my elbows on my lap to look her straight in the eyes. “Don’t do that. That’s them talking, not you. Gray, Gently, every other asshole who lords it over the Gutters. You deserve better than to be turned into a monster like them. When you lose a friend, you should cry for them. They deserve that much.”
I honestly didn’t think the effect would be so sudden, or dramatic, but I guess nobody had ever given her permission before. On the contrary, it had probably been openly punished. Aenit managed one choking breath before she broke, crumpling to the floor. Hugging her knees and shaking with violent sobs, to the point I feared she would topple over.
Aster and Nazralind were both moving immediately, but I got there first just because I was closer. All of this was well out of my wheelhouse; I was deeply uncomfortable with touchy-feely huggy stuff. But damn it, all of this was my fault, and also my responsibility. Chickening out was not an option. I slid off my bench, took the two long steps to the girl’s side, and knelt there, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
She immediately pivoted in stumbled against me, clutching me and bawling, which was physically awkward in that position and nearly sent us both toppling over before I adjusted. Oh, well, I’d gone in for a comradely arm about the shoulders, but apparently this was going to be a proper hug now. Also, she was snotting all over the nice coat and shirt Nazralind and the girls had so kindly loaned me.
“Shouganai,” I mumbled aloud, just holding the girl while she wept.
That took… A while. It was a really strange thing, how something which was so actively uncomfortable didn’t leave me wanting to end it in a hurry. I guess crying can be cathartic even if you’re not the one doing it. There was also my all-consuming guilt to reckon with; if I couldn’t comfort one crying child, what the hell was I good for? I was the reason she was crying, after all.
Eventually, though, she did subside. One kid can only hold so much…slimy moisture. I was patting her hair while she hiccuped before I judged it appropriate to ask her anything.
“So how’d you get up here, Aenit?”
She said something which was muffled by my chest, but then pulled back enough to be heard, scrubbing at her nose with one forearm. The poor kid looked frightful, streaked with tears and snot. “I hid in a wagon. Listened to guards, found out where you was…set up. I’m good at hiding.”
“Well, I’m seriously impressed,” I said, meaning it. “Even Gilder never got through the gates without my help.”
That earned a watery smile. And then Aster was there, bending over and gently dabbing at her face with a handkerchief which I knew had to be Nazralind’s because it was some kind of silk and trimmed with lace. Aenit bore this with good grace for a few moments before taking the thing and loudly blowing her nose.
I took that as an opportunity to let go of her and ease back.
“I heard more, in the Gutters this morning,” she said, still gulping but clearly on the road to recovering her poise. “From the… I was hiding from the Kingsguard, and from Lady Gray’s men, and I heard… Lord Seiji, it was Uncle Gently. He gave them to her. All five of them. Right outta the Nest. They was supposed to be…” I could see the thought that caused her to trail off. “Safe,” she’d been about to say, but she knew better. Safety was an illusion. Her eyes were already welling up again. “That’s our home. Uncle Gently’s not…he’s not the best. But he’s supposed to take care of us!”
I was already seeing white. I had to close my eyes, force myself to breathe evenly. The mad beast of rage was swelling, clawing its way up, its snarl building up into a roar. I seized control, wrestling with it. Forcing it back down.
Not yet. It’s not time yet.
Soon.
“You was… I couldn’t think of nothing else,” Aenit mumbled. “You were good to Gilder. And, and I’m sorry, but I know you’re the Healer. It’s…it’s not really a secret anymore. You fought back. You beat her. I couldn’t think of… There’s not anybody else.”
“You did right.” I opened my eyes, reached out and squeezed her thin shoulder. “And you did very well to make it here with this. You’re a goddamn hero, Aenit. What you’ve pulled off today is more impressive than anything I’ve ever done. I have Blessings and allies; you did this with nothing but your wits. I know we just met, but I’m proud as hell of you.”
Her lip was trembling violently and more tears poured down her gaunt face, but she was done weeping. Even through the tears, what I saw in her pale red eyes reflected my own. Fire and steel. Vengeance. A new Dark Crusader being born right before my eyes, and oh, how that made what was left of my spirit crumble. This was just a child. She should be going to school and playing with friends and having three hot meals a day prepared by someone who loved her, not… Not any of this vile bullshit.
But that was no longer a choice I got to make. The pain and destruction was in the world already; in this world, it was everywhere. I’d gone and showed people they could strike back; there was no putting that genie back in its bottle. Now, I had to make good on what I’d offered them. All of them.
“And I promise you.” I grasped her other shoulder and met her gaze. “They are going to pay for this. But that’s…later. After today. Today, we’re going to keep the vigil, and then send them off to rest. Properly, with respect, because they deserve that. Do you want to stay with us til the end?”
She nodded, scrubbing at her eyes again with the already-soiled kerchief.
“Good.” I stood up, holding out one hand to her, and she took it. “For now, Aenit… If this is too painful to talk about, that’s totally fine, you don’t have to. But if you’re willing…”
I turned to look at the bodies.
“Would you tell me about them? I don’t even know their names. I’d like to know…who they were. I want to remember.”
The little girl smiled up at me through her tears, and squeezed my hand. Then led me forward to meet the dead.
Comments
Ian Tonelli
Yeah I was more concerned about the lack of wood on the planet more so then the heat. Which may be what Webb was getting at, I tend to forget setting details and it took me a moment to hazard a guess
Too Much Sanity May Be Madness
I doubt it. Gray just murdered five other kids, and Seiji is mourning them and comforting Aenit. I can't see any motivator, either logical, emotional, or ethical, that Gray could offer her that wouldn't have been snuffed out by this scene. Lamm might be a spy, but he's inflicted an awful lot of damage on Gray's organization by ratting her out, and it seems unlikely that it would be worth it for her; even if she's willing to let it all burn to get Seiji, Lamm has burned enough of it to make striking at Seiji a lot harder. Heck, I'd believe that Rhydion was the spy before either of those two.
Sean Coker
I love Rhydion, such a wonderfully well written character. I very much found myself agreeing with him more than Senji.
ParadoxFox
Not sure what is meant by open air pyres not being able to reduce a human body to ash. It’s fairly common in India and several other Asian cultures. It does take a fair amount of time, but it certainly works. Anyway, thanks for the chapter. This one hit with a lot more feels than I was expecting given the fact that we basically know nothing about the kids. I think it’s fairly common to drum up hatred for an antagonist with some heinous act of violence or cruelty, but in this case it’s more about Seiji’s guilt and Aenit’s grief.
Ian Tonelli
Hmmmm... plenty of oppurtunity for Gray to plant I spy. My moneys on the kid
Too Much Sanity May Be Madness
This is making me very curious about Rhydion. The fact that he's empathizing so strongly with Seiji... it sounds like he was once very similar to how Seiji is now. So why is he Sanoran? Is he even really Sanoran?
