Page 46 of The Shape of Monsters
“What is called material—objects, bodies, air, water,” the numen murmurs from behind Iriset, “is made up of pieces so small as to be invisible individually. All things in existence share the same building blocks. Only designed into different patterns for different effects. Water to vapor to cloud to rain to ice, it is the same except the effect. It is what a sunderer can affect.”
“And numena transform between types of—of existence? Naturally?” Iriset glances between the two numena.
Lyric grinds his first knuckle between his eyebrows.
“We have no true form,” the Moon-Eater says in mirané. “Every moment of every hour, I control my form.” His fish scales begin turning to mist, evaporating off his body and leaving mirané-brown skinbehind. Even his bulbous eyes follow suit, until it’s only the Moon-Eater as plain as any miran Lyric has ever seen. He’s glad: This is better for begging mercy.
Lyric steps nearer. “Moon-Eater. Shade. Spare Setka tonight.”
The Moon-Eater purses his lips. “Why?”
“Because she’s alive, and deserves to live.”
“What does that have to do with anything? Many living things that deserve to live die.”
Lyric fights to remain still and calm. “She isn’t going to die, she’s going to be killed.”
The Moon-Eater looks skeptically at Iriset. Lyric resists following his gaze. Iriset says, “Shade is right.”
“Where you come from,” the Moon-Eater says delicately, a little amused smile on his face, “you said the kind of design that results in chimeras is forbidden. It makes you uncomfortable. Why ask for this?”
“We aren’t where I come from, and my—my discomfort should not be a death sentence. Neither should yours.”
“Mine?” The Moon-Eater sounds truly surprised.
Lyric presses, “Yes, I understand this festival, how it functions in your city, to curtail extravagance and remind your architects of consequences. I have made choices like this, to destroy a few in order to preserve the whole. I understand the discomfort of such choices and in this case want you to relieve yourself. Save her.”
The Moon-Eater stares at Lyric, expression falling away, until he is so still that something strange happens in Lyric’s perception and the Moon-Eater seems just as expansive as he was as the sea snake. The Moon-Eater is the entire world for a blink. It’s a disorienting illusion, and then the old fairy ruins it by grinning. “No. I don’t think I will.”
“What?” Lyric is genuinely shocked. He thought it would work.
“You asked for something simple, easy, nothing lasting. Youshould have asked for me to cancel the entire festival forever. Save them all!” The Moon-Eater smiles brightly, as if his answer makes any sense. “Not one silly little chimera.”
“But…” Lyric feels lightheaded. “I asked for what I thought I could get.”
Between blinks the Moon-Eater stands before Lyric. He cups Lyric’s face, and Lyric is too stunned to stop it. “That is what you fail to understand, Lyric Aharté,” the Moon-Eater croons softly. He caresses Lyric’s cheeks. “I am a monster of extravagance, of ambition. Excess and splendor. I don’t do little things. It’s a waste of my time.”
Lyric swallows. He pulls away, and the Moon-Eater allows it. “Please,” he murmurs.
“No. Go make a mask, have something to drink, and later find a bonfire and throw in what you make. You can’t build a religion in my city if you don’t understand it.” The Moon-Eater turns away, stretches his arms over his head, and switches back to Old Sarenpet. “Eliri, help Lyric and Iriset find what is needed.”
Lyric very carefully breathes. He ignores what’s happening around him, placing one hand over his chest. He breathes in eight-counts, centers his dominant force, and braids the other forces of his inner design into balance. He lifts his gaze to the strange glittering strings in the air and the lazy butterflies, staring beyond to the small slices of sky.
There is no moon overhead, of course. Only an empty blue.
“Lyric Aharté.”
A touch to his elbow brings Lyric back down, and though his calm is not peace but distant horror, he is able to meet the shifting green-blue eyes of Irsu River.
Beyond River, Iriset is talking with the Moon-Eater and Eliri and the numen, while a group of courtiers have crowded in, standing between Lyric and Iriset—though they don’t come too near Lyric.Several shoot him considering looks, like the distance might not last long. But there’s such a swirl of light and color, and the forces are so tangled, ecstatic sparking against his skin, falling dragging him down. River takes Lyric’s elbow and gently pulls him out of the center.
He needs to find Setka, he needs—
River puts something in his hand. “Drink.”
“Wine?”
“Water.”
