Don't you Know?

“Planning to stay the night, are we?”

Brei turned from gazing out the window at the drifts of rain chasing each other across the once-dusty yard of the farming community as Dad plonked himself into the next chair over, resting his arms on the table.

She made a face at him. “The gondoliers run all night, you know. Divinations don’t need to sleep.”

“Hrm, that tutorship must pay a lot then.”

She snorted, turning her attention back to the window, watching the lights flickering in the one across the way. That used to be old Torral’s section. She remembered her cousins daring her to rap at his door when they’d been children. Now it was occupied by his niece and her family.

He wouldn’t have moved. He would have scorned the idea and spat at the boots of anyone who even suggested the idea of leaving his home.

“Do you really think Ma would have wanted to leave? She grew up here. I grew up here.” Her voice was soft, but she couldn’t keep the harsh, cold edge out of it.

When he didn’t reply, she turned to look at him, her jaw tight. “You’d really leave even her memory behind?”

His thick, calloused finger traced one of the patterns in the wood. “She’s not here, my little Brei-sé. You know that as well as I do.”

“What we have left of her is. What about the memories? About— about when we went to market, and when we visited the historical archives. Or when we lit the floating stars for the Day of Light? The festival? Her singing?” A wet prickle stung her eyes, and she pressed her lips so tightly together they went white, glaring into his brown gaze. “This is our home. It’s our home. It’s a part of us. And you’d leave it? You’d leave me?”

He reached out for her hand, catching it even as she attempted to twitch it back, his expression gentle, sorrowful. “I don’t have to leave you if you come, little feather.”

His rough, worn fingers rubbed at her own, and she glared daggers at him, blinking back tears. “I can’t go. I have an idiot to look after, and I have to finish this twice-damned tutorship. Why can’t you just stay? We can do something. We can make sure Darkness never touches us. Running away won’t stop it from reaching you.”

He rolled his jaw, as if physically chewing over the words in his head. “The Scale’s message was for Firemount.”

“That hasn’t stopped Loh from being overrun!” She fired back at him. “It said our world would be destroyed.”

“Couple people are saying the better translation was civilisation. Society. Our little isolated bubble.”

“Who? The Divinations?”

He shook his head at her scoff, squeezing her hand and letting his fingers slip away. “Just a few contacts. Some people I know. Some of them are priests, forced to stay quiet by their overs who have been told to keep things quiet. I’ve heard they’re putting together a lie, that the Hand’s pressured them to spin a light lattice about some message of hope that everything will be fine if they trust in the Scale.”

“Oh, really. As if that would work.” She let out a sharp breath. “So I suppose you don’t think Firemount’s worth saving because it’s just so terrible, isn’t it?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I think it’s going to wreck itself by hiding its face in a pillow and pretending it’s above it all.”

She looked away, digging her nails into the edge of her sleeve and the flesh underneath it. Wasn’t that what she was doing? Trying to hide her face in a pillow and waiting for it all to blow over? Wishing she could do something and telling herself there was nothing she could do?

“And I don’t want my daughter caught up in that.”

Glancing up again, she saw his earnest farmer’s look in full force. “...I’m not leaving, Dad.”

He sighed, long and low, his shoulders deflating. “I know. You’re soul’s here.”

She couldn’t meet that look. Dropping her eyes to her hands, she twined her fingers, pulling them in a tight chain-lock.

He sighed again, patting at her hands, and slid his chair back. “If you want to do something about saving your home, though, I know a few people. You might be interested in talking with them. They’re a stubborn lot, set on turning this stubborn ox around.”

From what he’d been saying, she wasn’t really sure she wanted to know who this... group was. Watching as he rose and headed back for the kitchen, she tried to figure out if it would be worth it to show interest.

...What other avenue do you have? Sitting there stewing for the rest of your days?

“Swirled ceffludge? Extra moch flakes?”

Her eyes flicked up, landing on the side of his head as he threw the question over his shoulder. If nothing else, it could open the door to other rooms. “Please.

“...And... where can I find these people?”

&&&

“Ah, Domini Seih.”

Seih took a brief moment to close his eyes and exhale before turning to meet Hafest’s gaze with a nod. “Domini Hafest.”

“How nice of you to join us. Evenaste was so very pleasant with the addition of your presence,” the man practically purred, his expression genial enough, and at odds with the smugness he exuded from every pore.

The other Domini hadn’t been nearly as grateful for his being there at the beginning of the night, Seih reflected to himself, the dark wine in his glass souring on his tongue. Then again, maybe he’d thought Seih would be able to derail things, somehow.

“Of course, it’s a shame none of the others really want you here.” The other lounged against a pillar, smiling behind the rim of his own glass. “You have such... passionate ideas. It’s unfortunate that no one will listen to you.”

“I’m sure.” He mentally sighed, swirling the liquid. “You might be surprised to know that I didn’t want to come.”

Tambo had practically dragged him in. And truth be told, he had thought there might be something to it—a chance to gauge who might be sympathetic to the notion of doing more than dining while Loh fell and people he’d known disappeared from Soulspace, presumably dead. Or worse. That surely at least a handful of councillors would be interested in his pitch. Firalk, at least.

He hadn’t given thought to them being warm to the notion, yet frosty to him. He’d barely spent a moment with Firalk before the sinking feeling deep in his gut had taken hold, mostly at the distance the other man had immediately set up between them. He didn’t want to be associated with Seih, himself. None of them did.

Apart from Tambo, at least. Who also seemed to be working Gantan around to his point of view, but from her own politely-frozen demeanour, he wasn’t hopeful she’d actively support him.

You gained public favour, and stabbed yourself politically. Well done.

“Well, I’m glad you did anyway.” The man gave him one last, almost smirking smile and pushed off to saunter away. “You’ve really made the entire evening.”

Hafest could gloat all he wanted. It had never been about image, or clout—if he’d wanted to keep any of that, he would have kept his mouth shut and agreed with whatever the Hand said. Giving a sigh, he let his eyes drift back to his glass, already halfway prepared to take his leave.

Before catching on the Divination trailing silently in the Domini’s shadow. Hafest’s aide. Or bodyguard. Or whatever he was. The one with golden eyes, the trailing edge of a glance flicking away from him.

He did have to wonder.

|Wait.| He focused on him, sending a sightline message through soul-link. |Do you have a moment?|

That brought him a sharp look, the Divination’s head snapping around fast enough that he missed the turn between one blink and the next.

|Winds?| He tried. That stare was uncannily similar. Then again, almost every Divination had the same expression, even if it wasn’t as bright—this one’s eyes glowed like candles in the dark. |I just wanted to talk.|

|I must attend to my master,| the other intoned, an edge to it that almost seemed to say “why are you bothering to speak to a Divination?”, but he did pause, Hafest disappearing through the archway into the better-lit dining chamber where the babble of guests and a reedy hint of music filtered out into the night air.

|I doubt anyone in there plans to assassinate him.| He cracked a half-smile.

|Why are you speaking with me?|

He hesitated. Now that he was here.... It had been an impulse, no plans to it. He couldn’t just bluntly ask him—this was Hafest’s Divination, and just because he had yellow eyes, that didn’t mean anything. There were plenty of others with similar shades who weren’t a member of the other man’s faculty. |...Do you like philosophy?|

Winds—he’d never corrected him, and Seih was mostly sure he’d gotten it right—blinked slowly. Before turning and moving to follow his master, his shoulder brushing the leaves wreathing the archway. |I must attend to my duties.|

And Seih was left with a distinct sense of deja vu.