Page 51 of The Mercy Makers
If she were going to do so anywhere, she wishes it could be here. But there is a whole world outside this crater, and people leave Moonshadow all the time. She’ll go soon, and take her father with her.
First she needs to get her distraction array in place. From the Bright Star tower Iriset can clearly see enough of the palace and grounds to create a map in her mind’s eye. It matches thesecurity map she’s begun sketching in order to embed it into the sea glass. When she finishes that, she’ll draw a copy and mark up the four quarters of the palace complex to choose anchor locations for their balance, convenience, and the overlay of the security net. She’ll need to slip out of her room tonight to begin tying little open-loop knots in the net, starting in the center probably, and spool outward over the next few nights. If she can’t steal enough silicate chips, the whole design will need to be streamlined, though Iriset would rather not sacrifice grandiosity for lack of materials.
“It is a stunning view,” Amaranth says. “But look who I found wandering the gardens.”
“Hello, darlings!”
Iriset spins, nearly braining herself on the pillar. It’s Nielle mé Dari, wrapped in vivid yellow with an orange crescent mask spiked with what are almost certainly cactus needles in a sharp halo.
Behind Nielle on the stairway, Ziyan mé Tal and Anis mé Ario nudge out, carrying a tray of rose ice and plates of finger food refreshments, including a subtle honey wine. “I thought,” Amaranth says, “we can all camp out here since it’s so brutally hot.”
Ziyan and Anis set out the trays along the southern edge of the circular pool, and Iriset hops to Singix’s side to run interference with Nielle. The former handmaiden is staring at the princess, mirané fingers covering parted lips. Iriset introduces them and Nielle says, “Forgive me, Your Glory, but you are unbelievably gorgeous. I’m so glad they aren’t making you wear a mask.”
“Nielle,” Amaranth chides, but laughing.
Nielle shrugs and touches her eyelids respectfully.
Singix sinks onto a pillow. “My thanks. I am feeling rather wilted, and happy it does not show.”
“A wilted orchid is still an orchid,” Nielle says, plopping down.
“How is your marriage?” Iriset asks, giving in to her own natural bluntness with Nielle, who will appreciate it. She wishes she could touch Nielle’s wrist or throat or mouth and push in little pops of ecstatic force to trace the new lines born in Nielle’s inner design thanks to the exchange of design eggs. Iriset has not known many people before and after their Silent Marriage ritual, certainly not well enough to investigate the design-effect.
Nielle grins. It brightens her expression, rearranging her face into something at least interesting. “I’ve only been able to leave for a day—that marriage knot is no joke!”
“Marriage knot?” Singix murmurs.
“It’s the most intense part of the ritual,” Nielle dismisses, then her eyes widen. “Oh, but nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Iriset agrees softly, touching Singix’s wrist.
Anis comes over with cups of honey wine and the bowl of rose ice. She kneels and shares it all out. Then she pulls a lacquered box from her pocket and offers to teach Singix a variation on shuffling shells.
As they listen to the basic rules, Ziyan tunes her lap harp, and then softly plays. She adds in a murmured melody, delightedly attempting to harmonize with the skull sirens.
After some time of gentle play and relaxing rose ice, Singix asks after the crisis in the city. “The Vertex Seal was taken away rather abruptly. I hope all is well.”
“I’ve just left the privilege council, and we’ve sent in the city army,” Amaranth says, lounging upon a frothy silk pillow with a shallow bowl of wine in hand. “And no one is dead.”
“Yet,” Sidoné adds quietly, tapping her teeth.
Ziyan says, “I am glad it is not my father’s precinct this time.”
“It often is?” Singix frowns.
“There is always unrest somewhere.”
Iriset curls her fingers around three thin shell coins. Perhaps the unrest is woven into Moonshadow’s design. Perhaps it’s necessary spikes of ecstatic force to balance the flow of expansion.
Amaranth adds, as if thinking along the same lines, “The empire is home to very many people and communities. It’s natural for there to be tension. We only must keep the tensions balanced. For the good of all.”
“Ah, striving toward perfect design,” Singix says, glancing at Iriset.
“If the miran press that tension too firmly, in the same place, it will snap,” Iriset says, eyes on the coins in her hand.
Her Glory laughs once. “So our Little Cat’s daughter still has her teeth.”
“The more complex a design grows, the more flexibility it needs, that’s all. And miran are not known for flexibility.” Iriset tosses the shell coins and Anis’s long-fingered hand snatches the two spinning, and flips the third up her sleeve.
