A Change of Heart

The Rest of Saturday March 6, 1490

There was, in the end, some justice to Thoren's contention that House Criamon was unruly and disorganized. While so many crises swirled around us, we huddled in our little clump in the orphanage yard. The Secunda cut off a lock of her dead lover's hair and sobbed disconsolately over his mangled body, the Prima awkwardly and unsuccessfully attempted to soothe her, the only other official member of the House abjured all magical usage, and the unofficial member of the House (or possibly his ancient-god-turned-avatar) made inappropriate jokes that cheered no one. Then again, that might not have been his intent. The gods were not often comforting.

"I'm not sure eef things are more or less complicated now" was among his first remarks. To our disbelieving stares, he elaborated helpfully, "Zere eez one less person to irritate us."

Thoren could be irritating, I thought, but I'd miss being irritated by him. I'd miss our fights. I'd miss him scowling furiously at me and insulting my House and my education; I'd miss shouting right back.

That was followed by a surge of guilt that I could even think of him as irritating when he lay dead before me, when he'd loved me and tried to protect me and succeeded all too well, sacrificing his life in the process.

If only I hadn't fallen for his trap, I could have talked him out of his mad plan. It was my fault. His death was my fault. Astera's death and Lil's erasure were my fault. The massacre in the caves, the near escape of the Hearth spirit, the decimation of House Bonisagus, the impending collapse of the Aegis — my fault. All of it mine. What divine injustice had left me alive when so many were dead? I could have died along with all the Bonisagi, and not even begun to atone for the tragedy. I should summon the Areopagus for myself, I thought with bitter humor, remembering Ynez's trial, just a couple days and a lifetime ago, and Astera standing tall and proud, a pillar at our backs. I'd been terrified of the verdict, but she'd been there, and only now did I realize that I'd never believed in my heart that anything truly terrible could happen as long as she were there. She simply wouldn't allow it. And now she was gone. In a way. Astera-Despina would return in the fullness of time, and then Lil would be gone. Was that better or worse? Better or worse? Was there even a "better" in this situation?

Uncontrollable sobs wracked my body, and I covered my face with my hands, rocking back and forth. If only I'd told Thoren about the mice from the start, if only I'd been more observant at the Acropolis this morning, if only I'd listened to Ynez when she advised me not to go this afternoon, if only I'd started to study Ars Vis years earlier so I could have broken the time trap, if only I were better at Ars Essentiae so I could have flown home faster. If only, if only, if only.

"Ghallim!" Ynez exclaimed sternly, petting my shoulder helplessly and handing me her last clean handkerchief. "Your jokes are not helpful right now!"

Hearing my gasping sobs, Tel began to wail anew. "What happened?" he pleaded. "What happened? I don't want to have anything to do with magic anymore. It only kills people and hurts my friends. I don't want to do magic anymore. Make it stop. Please, make it stop!"

Raising my head, I suggested wildly, "Can we swap his avatar for a different Muse? Like the Muse of Comedy?" It was an insane idea, of course. From Astera's lessons and our own experiences with the loom, I knew perfectly well that the avatar removal procedure was delicate and dangerous, and even if we succeeded, where would we find a replacement avatar? But I didn't feel like being reasonable.

"Uhhh," said Ynez, striving for diplomacy, and her attempt at kindness only made me cry harder. I was the older sister here. I was the one who should be supporting her as she adjusted to our mother's death and her sudden promotion to Head of House. But instead I was the one falling apart uselessly.