“Their simiform face, and muscles, and size, can all be accidents. Maybe even the hands,” Zora says, in the tones of someone being scrupulously fair. “Simiform Pelōŕios has precisely and exactly the voice I heard in my imagination, that I wanted, Pelōŕios doesn’t sound like that as a unicorn or” — and Zora waves at their head — “before.”
Lethal disbelief, only in a strong sorcerer that might not be metaphorical. People do this, not only the young, if it’s perfect they don’t deserve it and if it’s not perfect they could do better.
“Everything you want doesn’t happen.”
Zora nods.
“As ethics, you don’t believe you intended any alteration.”
Never mind if you really trust yourself about that.
“Pelōŕios does not believe they’ve been unjustly or involuntarily altered, you went to considerable trouble, meaning Halt chortles when learned persons ask how it could be possible, to set that up so Pelōŕios had control of it.”
Zora nods again, tentatively. Aspects of Halt’s sense of humour are strange to kindness.
“You’re not considering that perhaps you correctly perceived what Pelōŕios would sound like.”
Definitely not, that’s puzzled blinking.
“There isn’t a test you haven’t passed. The judges opted for reduction in harm at unknown risk, rather than unknown risk of unknown harm, just as they ought. That’s not special favour, it might not make anyone happy to repair the faults of unicorns, but justice is justice.”
I really should have brought cake.
Zora gets a tremulous look and converts something, presumably dirt, to a white porcelain cake pedestal. A blue glass bowl of whipped cream and a strawberry loaf cake form out of the air in, oh, thirty seconds. There must be substance, neither of them have that odd feeling that goes with illusions. I get handed a shiny clean plain table knife and a proper cake fork; Zora’s pulled those out of the refectory, I saw them sail through a window that opened quietly and as quietly shut. So, an afterthought, does a spoon for the whipped cream.
“The pedestal lid?”
“The inevitable corundum,” Zora says. “There’s aluminium everywhere.”
It looks like the Power made a soap bubble permanent. Zora’s command of the Power, much as our habits of politeness dislike ascribing agency to any performance of sorcery.
It’s a toothsome cake. The whipped cream tastes as though it was from cow’s milk, as they’d expect in the Blue Hills.
“If I tell Pelōŕios yes, I’m condemning them to following me around, if not my funeral.” Zora stops looking at me, starts looking up to a distant part of the sky. “Domesticating swans, all the new species and altered people, taking up with unicorns, reading the patient’s mind. It’s not the sort of behaviour the Shape of Peace will necessarily approve.”
“If you think it likely the Shape will disapprove, why are you doing those things?”
“It gets the job done. Halt’s clever idea works, it fits into what people can agree the job involves.” Zora grins, and has butterfly wings for just long enough I’m not afraid I’m hallucinating. “At least if they get some time to think. That doesn’t mean our job, any wizard-team’s job, fits into the Shape of Peace’s expectations for sorcerers.”
Zora sets their cake fork down, takes a sip of tea. “We don’t know that the Shape will disapprove. We don’t know that it won’t. It’s not even slightly clear to anyone why Grue and Blossom were accepted, or if that reasoning would apply to us.”
Zora’s wings come back to wave a little, ignoring the existence of the chair and several tall mint plants.
“Pelōŕios knows that?”
“Pelōŕios asked Edgar about it, for a second perspective.” Zora’s proud and annoyed at the same time. It would be instructive, if Zora could see it. “Not a question of not believing me, a question of not understanding and thinking someone militant could better explain a lethal risk.”
“Asking the next-in-status male better fits with unicorn custom and gendered hierarchies.”
Zora squints at me a bit surprised.
“I can perfectly well read those books of Hyacinth’s you copied. Not at all proper to be more reassuring about a unicorn than the unicorn warrants.”
Zora nods. Pelōŕios’ behaviour isn’t that expected from a Unicorn Four.
“Not that I’m conforming to a student sorcerer’s expected behaviour.” Zora’s only a little rueful. “Aside from the impossible angle of loneliness.”
“So tell your fellow Unicorn Eight yes, and use the time you know you’ve got.”
Zora doesn’t look especially reassured.
“Or don’t, if you truly do not wish to. But if you’re certain you don’t want what your fellow-students have, you need not insist on desires certain of success. You may experiment, and see what works, instead of bending the world into a form that permits your desire.”
There’s a half-slice of cake pause.
“I’d forgotten that,” Zora says, just a little bit abashed, and smiles.
Chapter 53
Pelōŕios
I am not bound.
Halt is not here.
She and me and none else, here. An the tower-keeper be draped about the parapet unto plummet’s nearness eyes might answer yet ears shall not.
Be I never-may so much the fool as believe the subtle tendrils of Halt’s will might me each and every I detect.
Who might hope to be outside the subtle darkness. Who might hope to know, and thus must I think that if any these. Herself I believe not this day shall, yet, yet. May yet they shall, tomorrow.
Shall me never-not, in any tale of years.
Shall me never-not find welcome.
Had thought, but not, not, not, for all of seeming.
How about you go bipedal, and I stay unicorn? Voice gentle, stance, I see before I know, gentle entire, eyes not too strange for seeing beauty.
It gives each of us the body language the other has the most practice understanding.
What few synonyms of insufficiency as could be other-understood, may that not be.
All of stance and regard, tender entire. Strange, and strange, in comfortable shape.
Social relations in the Commonweal happen as they are chosen. Ripples of light. Laughter I might know unfelt with biped brain. You cannot judge my interest by the customs of Unicorn Fours. If I bound you, the law would kill me as I deserved. Then us-together would die, and Halt would be sad.
Flat five-toed worthless digging-things.
Kick back with a boot heel.
Heh.
Your interest might I wisely judge in no least wise. Death and mockery, soon enough death.
Thou, as thou art, are beyond my hope. Manual artifice of gesture, that do I me not ever think me on, shall communicate.
Unicorn becomes woman, and holds me. You’re shaking.
At the ease of arms, the nod, the eyes concerned, I go back to more familiar shape. Not as I had from birth; gift-of-kindness bettered yet improved me not enough.
Effort asks, to wait on ill news.
Sometimes the answer is what do you want to do?
Entirely serious simiform face I cannot well-read.
Let’s sit down? If that’s not too much like surrender?
Head in lap, that death and mercy may arrive together.
You haven’t seen social much of anything, and I’ve been opaque because I was thinking and you don’t deserve a penumbra full of parts of thoughts.
One warm hand on my neck.
Chosen isn’t a fixed list, it’s not like the cheese choice or the meat choice at dinner. Half a sigh. I don’t understand what you want, or — empty gestures at the sky — if you want anything in particular.
Unicorns bind their loves to keep them from leaving.
Incomprehension, stark and entire.
Let me say flock, though it be all of error; thou, and those of thee, a master of shapes and rewriter of minds, a
fair death and ordered, an entelech blythe in youth, the soul of victory, the ghost of nameless strength, and the goddess of destruction. What need have thee of more, ere I must account your elders and a death only death and the dread of every spider?
Someone to cuddle? an actual lover? peer social interaction? Incomprehension nearly so much.
Would then such not flee? Thou art fair, and lovely, and kind. You-together bid the mountains dance, and the full-mighty burn.
Do you want to flee?
In no least wise. Yet as thou leave me free to flee, I should understand my departure your desire.
No you should not. Both hands move above my head. If you can’t say no, you can’t say yes. I’d like you to be able to say yes.
Questions need must come before answers. The world goes dark, to say it, but here, with her, I must so say.
Not the kind of bend-the-world extravagance Death and Constant Strange Mayhem are engaged in. Half a sigh, and a still hand. They can. I don’t want to.
It be unlike the world an ever I shall.
I must surrender social humanity to be an Independent; I can’t possibly not. I can’t be especially particular about the amount, but perhaps I can about type. The rest of us are giving up nearly all of theirs, to have one another …
Bright and dim shall for nodding.
I would keep what I can. Unicorns aren’t any more socially human than independents. People, but people’s not the same, people’s more effort of politeness. We could be socially human with each other, and maybe not forget.
One chill tear.
Anyone associating with us-together is a risk.
Another.
More than just being alive in this century.
Thou wouldst grieve, an I died?
Nod, in idea and motion and thought.
Born to peace sees not what thy flock be. Not entire so be, grant in trepidation, yet I know that all as grieves thee so shall die. Better this than hopes of unicorns alone.
We might not win.
Let the General fear fire. I shall fear shred.
Have you learnt to read?
Mulch recites. Mulch recites gesticulatory and striding.
You hardly need fear shred.
Much asks Peace.
I’m not dead. I’m not enslaved, bound, or controlled. I haven’t been repeatedly impregnated because someone else wants more soldiers, or used up for labour not to my benefit. At no point in my life has there been any question that I would be housed or fed or cared for as I needed.
Yet much asks Peace. I must believe of thee thou wilt submit to die, if found wanting.
Those are everybody’s reasons, not just mine. I don’t get to damage the Peace for others.
A sigh that breathes out butterflies.
I was born into it, and it was all happy accident until the lower Third. I don’t get to say if your accident is happy.
’Tis uncertain. Infant courage answers not of kin.
Mikka was horrified by the idea of a unicorn, not by meeting you. Mother … I think Mother will be accepting if I seem happy.
Happy set before safe?
Sorcerers don’t get safe. Mother’s never going to admit understanding that, but they do.
A shift in weight and hand, leaning back.
So, keep them from leaving?
In span of years, shall come that day when wisdom has one flee, and those great may not for their greatness, as thou wouldst thee not for thy fellow citizens.
It’s a wonder there are still Unicorn Fours.
Few to miss they as remain.
Must ask.
Shalt thou, in span of time, become altogether one-together?
If not herself Death, of Death herself.
It took me years to learn all the math, she says, firm and calm. But I promise you, I am only and always myself, just as us-together are at all times one. Time shall not amend that.
Have heard claim the world wrought of singing every part, so song arbites the shape of all. Could not answer for which pit of words this be, nor if I now am fallen far.
I-myself am not any sort of combatant, nor any form of dread.
Doom I heard ring.
Heard thereafter calm tallies account the mighty dead. Ashes all but two and three who came to dust and nothing afore burnt up wert all strength of numbers.
We-together’s neither meek nor harmless.
Such voice, to say such things.
Thou-together might blot me into nonexistence.
I’d have trouble forgiving whoever killed you.
Yet ‘tis not welcome, and could not I know if welcome hath. Could well enough conclude betwixt death and none but rocks to speak to, death’s the better.
I think you’d really like me to just say you’re welcome. I need there to be something we both want to do before I can know what I want to say.
Peace asks much.
We can try to make ourselves stories if we want to, but we can only truly do it if the world will bend.
Hands, back of my ears, very gently. You might just, and I could, if I wanted to.
Why not have as you desire?
To have as I desire of others is impossible without conquest, which is outside the Peace, that place where the Commonweal doesn’t function and everything is worse.
Where she is dead.
All depart. Death, other departure, all depart. Of thou and I, it seems me not the greater chance thou should depart me ere I should depart thee.
Were we a thing together, someone might try to kill you just to make me sad. I can’t tell you that’s not a risk. I can’t tell you that the upswing in unpleasant events isn’t someone’s creeping tendrils of dominion.
The thought forms not so far as words.
Not a citizen thing, for knowledge. When we find whoever’s doing it, the Line destroys them.
Hugged round the neck feels of comfort, and I am doomed entire.
Doesn’t make anyone safe, but it does preclude anyone’s dominion.
Peace needs … yet it must not. Weeds are not all out of the world nor this Commonweal.
Peace is how we treat each other.
Hands lift, shifting thighs consequent of stretching back, simiform shapes escape strangeness whilst one only so as think not on it, and else never-not.
Do unicorns ever sing together? Just sing, not some kind of structured working?
If, I know not.
Collaboration’s awkward of metaphor. I can feel the smile. Using Chloris and Constant dancing as an example wouldn’t reassure anyone.
Smile differs and the patting’s gentle and the shudder passes.
Mulch’s pinnacle of skill.
Mulch?
Mulch hath great age, yet not great power; skill does all skill might, yet all Mulch’s work must instruct its efficacy.
I’d like much less ranting than Mulch produces, but yes, like that. It’s not all as someone says, it’s agreeing about what to do first.
Mulch’s skill is great, and mine not.
There’s no requirement for studying sorcery, you don’t have to become an independent to be a citizen. There’s lots of sorcery to learn if you want to.
Must become, and the thing cannot be undone. Not her demand, not any harshness of the law, but none of bending in it neither.
Pelōŕios. You’re useful to me by breathing. This isn’t about sorcery, or agricultural production, or anything other than wanting a lover to be gentle with. You can be useful enough for the Commonweal without any more effort than running about with messages.
Risen gaze to some further horizon than hazed hills southward.
Maybe I’m useful to you. But we don’t either of us know if that’s going to keep being true. I can’t go around making things I want factual because that’s altering the mind of another and actually wrong.
Not wings, but trees, risen insubstantial, faded as a sigh.
Even if it wasn’t wrong, it doesn’t work. Desire isn’t permanent, people ch
ange and … we might live a long time.
Have seen thee begin of nothing, though I see thee not entire.
From nothing’s easy. There’s Dread River hell-things, there’s who or what has been prodding at dominion in the Commonweal, there’s whatever’s destroying Reems and those threatening auguries. In a hundred years, the creation of the Second Commonweal’s going to mark the end of the Peace Established. If the Peace holds, this century’s going to have an uncomfortable name.
Threatened peace is yet more peace than other places.
One small chuckle.
I do focus on risk.
Were I unwelcome, should I then know?
Generally, or specifically?
That flock of which thou insist to be the certain least.
If you were unwelcome, you would know. I’m an apprentice, I can’t make guest stick by saying so, a lot of people have to agree. You couldn’t ever fit into the working link, but socially connected’s fine, you’re entirely welcome if you’re within the Peace.
If I do me then become a citizen.
If you’d known more sorcery to start with there’d already be a serious problem with guest. Swift little pats.
Us-together holds you as a citizen and willing to wander around and argue with surprises when I’m trying to understand what’s wrong with the beans very much a good thing.
Cruncher among cruel beans.
Or anything, really. I don’t have the reflexes, I wonder what kind of cruncher it is and look for condition indicators.
Better learning is better strength, yet worse and worser crunchers than in times of peace assailed.
Absent some wandering pre-eminent there isn’t much that could overcome you quickly, and further away and more ward and scream for help I can do.
Thou may not survive. Therein a long pause, without it any cold fall of tears. An thou do not, might I then depart?
We should check with Doucelin, but I think you would have to. Sighing, soft and half. You’d really be better off to take citizenship and stay, whatever happens to me with the Shape.
An thou liveth not, I should me disagree much and greatly. Must live in peace, and though I know it not well I know it not for what wouldst slay thee.
More as must be asked.
Safely You Deliver Page 37