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The sun sets over Pearl-On-The-Foam as Tei turns another page, reading through Heshian texts that she hadn't touched since her luminari training days. The lumin-powered lamp she's been using starts to dim, the reservoir running low after six hours of studying.
Her eyes are barely staying open; her body's cramped from sitting so long in the same chair; the initiate who runs the library keeps looking at the clock with compounding anxiety. Still, Tei studies.
A luminari is like a well-made knife: perfectly balanced and carefully honed for their purpose. The Cult of Hesh is an organism as multifaceted and inscrutable as Hesh itself. It straddles the line between religion and empire, balancing the soft power of faith and status with the hard power of wealth and lumin-laced weaponry. It aspires to guide Havaria’s people to greatness when its derricks rely on those who have been denied greatness. In the midst of this mess, a luminari must be sharp. Unerring. Able to stab at the heart of the Cult's enemies at a moment's notice.
Tei Utaro had been unerring through the Great Breaching, not flinching at what needed to be done to keep Hesh's faithful safe. All those petty emotions that would have caused her to stray from the path were subdued, kept locked away so she could plot and scheme, so she could face spark barons and heretics and a foreign parasite without even flinching. Luminari training is nothing but extensive. A well-trained one can match the indifference of Hesh itself.
But now? With the pilgrims already filtering out and the town calming down, there was nothing to do but keep watch over the local Heshians, and the local Heshians couldn't stop talking about the Great Beaching. The strange transformation of Vixmalli Banquod. The tentacle that dragged the giant carcass back into the sea, which may or may not have been Hesh itself. Even that bog-borne philosopher's speculation about the Roaloch and Hesh having a common origin has gained some traction. Not enough to, Hesh forbid, have Heshians converting to the worship of the Roaloch, but enough to cast the Roaloch as an equal opposite to Hesh. Hesh’s indifference vs the Roaloch’s active malevolence.
Such speculation was heresy, of course. Hesh is unknowable; to make such judgments is against everything the cult stands for. But people know what they see, and everybody saw the end of the Great Beaching. Even as the traditionalists in the local Cult stamped down on new thought, it was clear to everybody that this wasn’t going away, that this new speculation would last in Pearl-on-the-Form for years to come, and perhaps even take root elsewhere.
There are things that luminari training does not adequately prepare you for. An upcoming schism in the Cult is not one of them. Neither is physical evidence that justified heretical teaching. And it certainly does not prepare you for realizing that the end of all life as you know it was only stopped by the most heretical drunk you’ve ever met. So Tei studies. Submerges herself into the knowledge of Hesh’s indifference. Whatever it takes to keep from thinking about it too much.
"Um, Ms. Luminari?" Tei finally tears herself from her texts. The librarian initiate, a worn jarackle named Lumax, stands over her, rubbing her hands as she tries not to piss off someone who could kill her without thinking. "I understand that, by Hesh’s will, you have need of these texts. But it is late, and I was planning to go drink with my friends tonight, so-"
"Drinking?" Even from an exhausted luminari, the pointed question sends Lumax into a panic.
"I swear by Hesh, I'm just drinking water! Mostly! And maybe one real drink or two to unwind a bit. Besides, Hesh isn't against getting drunk as long as you don't shame it while drunk, right?" Tei sighs. Lumax is drawing on a popular but vacuous argument against strict sobriety that’s taken root among the Havarian side of the cult. Such behavior would never pass muster in Deltree. Normally, she’d take it apart, but considering what the local Cult was slowly coming to grips with, it’d be like going after a pickpocket in a warzone.
"You would do better to focus on the Waterlogged Tomes, initiate," she says. "Mediate on where Hesh's tendrils fall." The jarackle's ears twitch pensively, and she bites her lip.
"I did. Hesh made me think of all the friends I wouldn't get to see again if Smith Banquod didn’t stop that...thing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not listening to what people are saying about the Roaloch, but-" There's a heavy knock at the door to the library, sparing Tei the frustration of having to sort out Lumax’s particular theological weaknesses.
"What, at this hour?" Lumax, her night out with friends becoming a distant dream, sighs as she unbolts the door. Tei tries to return to her reading, but then she hears a distinctive baritone yell outside. No, not him, not now of all times. She dives into the bookshelves where she could see but not be seen by the man she’s expecting.
Sure enough, Smith Banquod, the hero of the hour, struts into the tiny library. Going from grifter to town hero in a matter of days has left a mark on him. For one thing, he’s clean. His green skin scrubbed and perfumed, and his blue jacket freshly laundered. More subtly, his usual haphazard confidence seems a bit more sure, his chest puffing out with earned pride rather than his usual protective bluster.
He looks made new. A thought runs through Tei's head; perhaps he was infected by Vix's parasite; perhaps the danger had never truly passed. Instinctively, she prepares her attack drones, starts analyzing Smith for any weak points, starts wondering whether her soul would still taste sweet to Hesh’s gullet. But then he pulls a cocktail from his interminable secret stash and downs it in one go, and Tei relaxes. It's still him.
"Praise Hesh, friend," Smith starts, clapping Lumax in the shoulder so strongly that she nearly loses her footing. If Smith notices, he doesn't apologize for it. "May you be touched by its clammy appendage. Have you seen a luminari named Tei Utaro? Human, dark-skinned, always sort of half-smirking? I've been chasing her down all day and a priest told me she was heading here."
Lumax's eyes widen as she glances towards Tei. A rookie mistake; never reveal a luminari until they choose to be seen. Tei glares back at her and gives her a hand signal that would make Hesh itself squirm.
"Ah, sorry Mr. Banquod, haven't seen her." Smith snorts at her response.
"What, you confusing me with Vixmalli? Or maybe baby brother Theroux? It's just Smith, always has been. And if you see her, tell her she should swing by my house tomorrow. I figure saving the world means a big party, so I'm having one for all my friends. I’m not sure if we agree on us being friends, but she should stop by anyways." Before Lumax can respond, Smith's already out the door, off to chase someone else.
Lumax looks at Tei haplessly. Without a word, Tei closes the book, returns it to the shelf, and leaves through the same door. The poor initiate starts turning out the lights as soon as she's alone, quite certain that Hesh would understand if she drank herself under the table that night.
Luminari do not usually party, Tei thought. But a Banquod party after Smith’s victory would be the biggest event since the Great Beaching. Such an event would require monitoring. And she *had* been invited.
The next night, Tei slips into the Banquod home, under the noses of four Admiralty guards and some hired muscle: typical security for the home, nothing she hasn’t dealt with before. Once inside, she looks over her freshly-polished armor once more in the shadows. Her anxiety, stuck between worrying about dangerous party saboteurs and worrying about making small talk, shoots enough adrenaline into her veins to deal with both.
This isn't the first time she's infiltrated a party at the Banquod estate, but Smith's presence throws some additional complications into the mix. Namely, he apparently invited all of his friends, from all walks of life. The usual Heshian priests, Admiralty officers, and wealthy business owners are in attendance, but so are pencil pushers, foremen, spark barons, workers, and even a pair of Spree bandits. It's clear Smith's siblings gave him some guidance; the Spark Barons, the workers, and the Heshians have separate tables far, far away from each other, as do the Admiralty and the Spree. But this is madness. No one could have so many factions in the same room without it burning to the ground.
And yet, Smith is everywhere, in gilded clothes, smoothing out loose bumps between different factions, putting drinks into hands before they can turn into fists. Perhaps the bonds made by his happy-go-lucky approach were stronger than Tei expected. Or perhaps no one wanted to piss off a guy who beat an otherwordly horror into submission with a hammer and a few dozen empty bottles. Either way, the Spree and the Admiralty keep to their sides, as do the Spark Barons and the Heshians. No one’s going to risk hurting one of Smith’s friends, and here, everyone is Smith’s friend.
A bell announces that dinner will be served shortly, and Tei decides to finally be seen. She steps out of the shadows, immediately silencing a few gossipping kra'deshi nearby. As she moves through the party, those faithful to Hesh stop mid-conversation, gawking at her with varying levels of subtlety. The aura of fear that a luminari can inflict on the faithful is often useful, but here it risks ruining the festive mood. It is almost a relief when Smith sees her from halfway across the banquet hall and starts yelling.
"Tei! So that limp-eared jarackle found you after all!" Smith's voice booms over the crowd. "I hope you like oshnu eyes, because Theroux found this amazing cook who can inject booze into them without making them pop." And like that, she's now a guest rather than a threat, and the Heshians start talking again. Smith cuts a path through the crowd, still yelling about the alcohol-infused delicacies at full volume while he tries to get to her. An incredibly loud, boorish kra’deshi approaching you at a party was also not covered under luminari training. Tei at least remembers to smile when he gets close.
"I just came to congratulate you, Smith," she says, cutting off Smith's description of vroc meat doused in shrokian peppershot. "I knew you were more competent when you looked two weeks ago, but I didn't expect you to find yourself in good standing again so quickly. It appears I underestimated you."
"Hard to find someone in Pearl-on-the-Foam that hasn't!” Smith laughs at what he thinks is a joke. “Come, come, Moreef imported some premium stuff for tonight. Get a drink before sitting down."
Five minutes later, Tei finds herself by the bar, pretending to drink an overly-decorated cocktail that she took out of courtesy, making sure that Smith's half-drunken bragging to Moreef doesn't leak any confidential information about the Cult or the missions she gave him. To her surprise, as overwhelming as it was, it was still better than another night reviewing ancient hymns.
"So," starts Smith, veering wildly into a new topic after a bawdy story about a bilebroker's secret aphrodisiacs, "Mulli only agreed to this party if I gave all the guests separate tables so they wouldn't start fights. I got you a seat with the other Heshians. You can talk about how fast one is allowed to wade in the shallows, or whatever Heshians talk about when they’re alone."
Tei recognizes the others at the Heshian table. Recognizes them too well, perhaps. Brale let his pet lumincyte into the lumin reserves. Quale had that torrid affair with that Spark Baron lackey. Phryniwin bought a dozen so-called relics that turned out to be forgeries. She researched them, surveilled them, and in some cases, interrogated them, but she knew nothing of their personal lives. So any talk would go to the only thing every Heshian had an opinion on: The Great Beaching. Heresy. No, that would not do.
"I commend your sister's foresight, but I will not sit with them. Luminari protocol, you’ll understand."
"Oh?" Smith shrugs and looks around the crowd, his eyestalks taking in all the people. "Where are your people here then? You have to have someone here you'll sit with."
The answer comes to Tei's mind, and is immediately discarded. She looks for an alternative, some ally in the other factions, some acquaintance that she could lean on for acceptance for a few hours. Anything to avoid admitting that the only person here that she’d really talked to as a person was Smith Heshing Banquod.
With no other options, and a rising panic in the back of her head that she was not ready for, she decides to change the subject by downing her entire cocktail in one go. Smith cheers as Moreef’s jaw drops.
“Ms. Utaro, that’s one of my strongest liquors! I’d advise you to-” Before Moreef can finish his warning, Smith grabs him in a friendly headlock and starts affectionately grinding his knuckles into his head, completely messing up his fur.
“Relax, Moreef, she’s a luminari, she has to know what she’s doing. Though I’m surprised you can handle your alcohol, Tei. I know my parents drank, but I thought the luminari and the more hoity-toity priests didn’t.” The luminari don’t drink, and Tei doesn’t know how to handle her alcohol. The cocktail hits her gut like Hesh’s own backwash, but she manages to keep it down.
“Ah, well, Hesh isn't against getting drunk as long as you don't shame it while drunk.” Thank Hesh that honesty is not one of the cult’s major virtues. She works her way through the same slapdash justification for alcohol that so many other Heshians in Havaria have, quoting verses from the Waterlogged Tomes slightly out of context to support it. Moreef is hesitant, but Smith nods along with her explanation.
“If you say it’s fine for you, then it’s fine for you. You’re the expert on the Hesh, and, uh...yourself.” Smith leans close to Tei and loudly whispers, “If you want the best stuff, you should sit by me. I got a personal stash hidden under my table.”
Tei shrugs. “Sitting with Smith Banquod because you’re secretly a wine aficionado'' was somehow easier on her mind than “sitting with Smith Banquod because you’re lonely”, and she didn’t have time to unpack why that was. The two say their goodbyes to Moreef and head to the back of the room.
There lies a table carved out of coral and adorned with lumin, one of the Banquod family heirlooms. Smith leaps over it and checks under it, his enthusiasm quickly turning to confusion.
“Hey! Someone took my booze!”
“That booze is for the whole party, Smith.” The two turn to find Mullifee Banquod, new head of the Banquod family, standing behind them, her dress uniform pristine and her buttons gleaming. “Besides, we agreed that you should be mostly sober for your first time hosting.” Even unarmed, there’s an unflinching glint in her eyes as she stares down Smith.
“Don’t give me that look,” starts Smith, already raising his hands defensively. “I’ve been drinking water! Mostly! But my friend Tei here needed me to show off how impressive the selection is! And since Vix is still bedridden and Theroux is off on his honeymoon, we have extra seats at the family table.” Tei looks at Smith’s sputtering and decides to take matters into her own hand, gently pushing Smith aside and extending a professional hand towards Mullifee.
“Tei Utaro. I believe we met at the Hideaway on the last day of the Beaching, Guard Captain Mullifee.” Mullifee smiles back, and they shake hands with the sort of crispness that comes into play when dealing with someone who could kill you and get away scot free.
“I’ll admit I was curious about how Smith managed to get a luminari on his side, but I’m pleased to see him in good company nonetheless. Good thing Vix isn’t here though. He’s still so weak. Seeing Smith give a luminari drink recommendations might finish what the parasite started. Well, the parasite and Smith.”
Mullifee laughs at her own joke, and Tei follows her cue and laughs along. In the corner of her eye, she watches Smith. For the first time since she arrived, his hazy smile falters for a moment, his mind caught on something far from the party.
“But yes, we’d be happy to have you sit with us. A luminari sitting at our table might repair the Banquod name in the eyes of the cult. I’ve heard some of them want to try and pin blame on Vixmalli and the rest of us for what happened with the Great Beaching.” She elbows Smith in the ribs, breaking him out of a rare moment of thought. “Treat our guest responsibly, and try to sober up. Dinner’s about to be served.”
Satisfied, Mulli nods to Smith and turns to sit down. As soon as Mullifee turns around, he sticks his tongue out at her, only for her to whirl around and grab the tongue. Tei quietly takes her seat as the two twins, prominent members of the famed Banquod Dynasty, start playfully fighting with each other.
The dinner goes off with minimal hitches. Dish after dish came out of the Banquod kitchens, each one doused with alcohol (save for those sent to the Heshian table). Tei eats slowly, trying to mitigate the effects of the alcohol in the food. The dishes are delicious. They’re also doing terrible things to a stomach accustomed to nothing but water.
As the guests finish off the last dish, Smith gets to his feet and clears his throat. The clatter of forks on dishes and gossipping Havarians quickly fades to a soft hush. I was right, Tei thought. He really could have been a good priest if he took to the clergy.
“Friends!” Smith starts. “We’re here to celebrate surviving the Great Beaching! If Hesh is going to consume us all, he’s decided we need more time to simmer first.” A short laugh break, little of it coming from the Cult table. “Anyways, everybody here helped me out when I was stuck here, homeless and doing all I could to get by and get what’s coming to me. And good or bad, I certainly got it.” Another laugh break, this time led by the Jakes and the Spree.
“So I’d like to thank you all for your support, and I’d like to give a few special mentions. I’d like to thank my sister, Mullifee, and my two absent brothers, Theroux and Vixmalli.” Some applause as Mullifee bows, led by the Admiralty table. “I’d like to thank Sweet Moreef for giving me a place to rest my head and the best damn booze in the city.” Everybody raises a glass and toasts the jarackle, who handles the attention with an awkward smile. “And I’d like to thank Tei Utaro, for...believing in me.”
Tei finds the room focused on her. She stands unsteadily to her feet and bows curtly, her face an iron mask to keep her inebriation from being obvious. There’s some light clapping from the Heshians as she sits down, her face burning from being witnessed in such a state. Smith keeps talking, but she can’t hear anything over the nausea in her gut or the blood in her ears. As soon as the speech is over, she slips away from the table.
Luckily, earlier surveillance means that she knows where the bathrooms are. As soon as she kneels in front of the basin, her body realizes it’s finally safe to stop holding it in. It comes out brown and fast; she cleans up well, with the skill of someone who’s had to erase evidence before. She stands up, still woozy, and looks at herself in the mirror. It would be fine. A few drinks wouldn’t undo years of training; she’s still a luminari. She hadn’t shamed Hesh in front of the crowd. And yet there’s a pit in her stomach that didn’t come out with the rest of the puke.
She finds her way to a balcony that opens out to the city, hoping some fresh air will clear her head. The sun’s set, and lumin lamps are lighting up all over town. Beyond the sea of lights is the actual sea, reflecting the stars twinkling above. Buzzed and well-fed, Tei thought she saw the world itself looking back at her from a thousand glowing eyes, the lumin gaze of Hesh itself. Normally, she’d be worried of tasting bad in the mouth of Hesh. Now she’s worried she won’t taste like anything at all.
Then, she hears something behind her. A sharp sound that’s been dulled by a wad of fabric. She recognizes it immediately; it’s a typical luminari trick to remain sneaky while garbed in full armor. And she knows who, out of the luminari in town, would be clumsy enough to get caught using it.
“The luminari should walk through the tides without disturbing Hesh’s ripples,” she speaks into the open air. “Your footsteps would cause splashes in a puddle, Mallowi.” Tei hears a grunt come from the nearby shadows.
“So you remember that part of your training, at least.” Mallowi steps out of the darkness, his faceplate as stern as his tone. “There’s been murmurs about you from the cult priests. They wonder why you sit next to the Banquods.”
“Surveillance. This party is extremely volatile, and Smith seems to be the only thing keeping it together. If anyone here plots to destroy him, best that I’m nearby.” The line came out of her head like she practiced it in her head for half an hour (she did). It would have pacified most priests, but Mallowi doesn’t budge. Instead, he straightens his spine and squares his shoulders, the way he always did during training when he was about to lecture someone.
“Hard to keep watch over someone when you’re half-drunk.” Mallowi cuts her off before she can protest. “I can smell it on your breath, child. I’ve trained dozens of luminari; this isn’t the first time I’ve caught one trying to cheat sobriety.”
Mallowi sighs, his pose relaxing. “Tei, we’re concerned. You’re normally a sterling operative. It’s unlike you to be this....careless.”
“I’m fine. And I’m not your student anymore. And I know what I’m doing. Besides, the way the tides are flowing, maybe drunkenness won’t be a sin in a few year’s time.” Mallowi is taken aback by Tei’s obstinance, but he rebounds, huffing and waggling his finger in Tei’s face.
“You’re speaking very loosely, child. Hesh’s indifference will not tolerate a disobedient-” Mallowi’s cut off as Tei grabs his wrist and twists. Hard. He stifles a squeal of pain as Tei hisses at him under her alcohol-tinged breath.
“Oh Heshing Hesh spit, you were there, Mallowi! We both were! How in Hesh’s name can you stand there and talk about indifference when we watched our doom get dragged into the Abyss? If Hesh doesn’t care, then something very large and very tentacled certainly gives a damn about us.”
“That...wasn’t...Hesh.” Mallowi forces the words through his mask. Tei glares at him and tightens her grip on his wrist.
“What else could it be, huh? Face it, we saw heresy. We were saved by heresy. If you can stick to the scriptures at a time like this, then good for you, but some of us are struggling and being lectured isn’t helping. Don’t question my dealings with the Banquods, and don’t question my dealings with the faith. Not unless you want the cult to know all about your little dalliance with the taxonomists. Now go back to the priests and tell them that I. Am. Fine.”
There’s a grunt behind them. Tei turns to find Smith watching her, casually wiping some grit from the bottom of his left eyestalk.
“You okay, Tei?”
“I’m...I’m fine, Smith. Mallowi was just leaving, right?” The chastised luminari clutches his wrist, his agony hidden by his mask. He mumbles an agreement before leaving the balcony. But Smith doesn’t move.
“I wasn't talking about him. I’ve fought next to both of you; I know you can take him. I was wondering why you left without saying goodbye.” Tei looks into Smith’s face, the honest concern in his eyes, and finds no lie she’s willing to tell him. Only one option remains: the truth.
“I...don’t actually drink, Smith. I drank the cocktail in a panic and I’ve been trying not to pass out or throw up since then. Couldn’t actually avoid the latter.” Tei watches as Smith makes a face.
“Aw, Hesh, and I put you on the spot when you were sick. You didn’t have to do that for me, Tei. I’m used to people not keeping up with my drinking.” Smith reaches out to her, to give some sort of clammy, affectionate touch, but Tei waves a dismissive hand at him as she turns back towards the cityscape.
“It’s not you, it’s...everything. The cult. The beaching. My childhood. I spent ten years learning how to serve the cult better than anyone else, years of fighting and studying and sneaking. And it was all worth it to keep the Cult alive and...healthy. Strong. I thought I knew how much I didn’t know. I thought I could handle everything.” Tei slams her armored fist into the balcony railing, causing Smith to jump. “But that tentacle...if that was Hesh, then we know the unknowable now. The local Cult has to choose between staying true to the faith and ignoring what they saw with their own eyes. Something’s going to give and I don’t know which side to be on.”
Tei lingers on the railing. Smith takes a spot next to her, and they stay silent for a few minutes watching sky, sea and settlement. Finally, Smith speaks.
“I don’t know much about Hesh, but I do know a lot about drinking. Ran into a lot of guys across Havaria who get drunk because something bad is about to happen. Admiralty officers getting reassigned to Murder Bay, Rise workers when the Spark Barons are about to crack down. And that’s a terrible way to get drunk. Just makes you surly and makes whatever’s coming even harder to deal with.” Smith pours himself a drink from his personal flask. “If something’s in your way, you gotta deal with it and then drink yourself under a table to forget about dealing with it. Or drink during it. Trust me, I’m an expert. So figure out what you need to do about this Heshing nonsense and then just do it.”
Tei looks suspiciously at the kra’deshi as he chugs down his umpteenth drink of the evening. “You can’t possibly think it’s that easy.” Smith shrugs.
“Nothing’s easy as far as I’m concerned, but you’re smart and you know how to get things done. If you can’t do it, nobody can - ahem, except maybe Mullifee.” He turns nervously to where he came from to make sure the guard captain wasn’t listening in, his face already grimacing at the thought of her slipping another crawly thing into his drink. Once satisfied, he turns back to Tei. “Now go home and drink some water. It’ll help with the hangover you’re going to get in a few hours.”
Smith once again extends the hand of friendship, and this time, Tei takes it. She takes one last look at Smith’s smiling, carefree mug before sneaking out of the party as easily as she snuck in, her training winning out over her inebriation. As she walks down the streets of Pearl-on-the-Foam, the cool breeze from the sea keeping her alert, she thinks about what Smith said.
Perhaps he was right. Change should be met head on. And something had changed with how she saw him.
Two days pass before Smith hears from Tei again. On one of Smith’s regular trips to the Hideaway, Moreef wordlessly gives him a slip of paper with an address, not far from the shrine where he and Tei used to meet. Moreef raises an eyebrow when Smith walks out without even asking for a drink, but at this point, he knows better than to dig into whatever strangeness Smith’s gotten himself into.
An hour, two negotiations, and an unfortunate encounter with an oshnu later, Smith finds a burnt-out husk of a building, a warning from the Cult of Hesh painted on the door. Luckily, Smith has years of practice ignoring clearly written signs and goes through the door anyways. He checks every room in the place until he reaches the roof, which contains: two chairs, a ramshackle awning, a bucket full of ice and wine, and Tei Utaro, casually reading a Heshian text.
“It’s an old luminari safehouse,” says Tei before Smith can ask. “Emergency source of supplies if you get hurt or if you need extra firepower. This one’s been out of use since last year, when the Jakes started hiding lumincyte eggs under the basement. Three luminari and a priest tried to clear them out. They succeeded, but...no one was in a rush to use this place after they did.” She tips her chair back and puts her feet up on the table. “So whenever I need some private time, I come up here.”
Smith sits down on the other chair. “Well, if this was a scheme to get me alone so you could assassinate me, you picked a pretty place to do it.” Tei gives him a stern look, and for a moment, Smith worries that he actually guessed right. But then she returns to her book.
“No. No murder today, unless you have something planned. I just want to ask some questions, out here where no one will hear us.”
“Fine, but if they’re about my jacket, I might as well let you know now that you can’t afford it. Dad got it designed and imported from all the way in Heshing Deltree.” Tei tips her chair back on two legs, and turns to Smith.
“Are you okay, Smith?”
“Lady, you’re talking to Smith Banquod!” He beats his chest a few times for emphasis. “The hero of the Great Beaching, the new star of the Banquod dynasty! How could you ask me if I’m okay?”
“Has anybody asked you if you’re okay?” Tei waits patiently as Smith is, for once, at a loss for words.
“No,” he says after a minute, more quiet than Tei has ever seen him.
“Then I’m asking. Are you okay, Smith? I know you’re tough, but I want to ask anyway.” Tei offers Smith one of the bottles in the ice bucket to loosen him up, but to her surprise, he doesn’t take it.
“Three weeks. Three weeks ago I heard my parents were dead.” The words come slowly, like Smith’s pulling each one from the alcohol-drenched depths of his mind. “Two weeks ago, the rest of my family tried to cut me out of the will, and I tried to cut them out...permanently. And then I had to beat my own brother half to death. But…” Smith shrugs. “Everyone likes me again. And that’s good! But I don’t understand how things got bad in the first place. Vix, Theroux, even Mullifee’s not how I remember her.”
“I can’t talk to my siblings about it. I don’t think any of them realized how close I was to…” Smith trails off, a frown on his face. “And Moreef’s a good friend, but he’s too...sweet. Heh. He gets all scared when someone’s rowdy in his bar. I think talking about murder would actually make him faint. And my parents...what Vix said on the last day of the Beaching...”
Smith turns to Tei, his face a mask of anguish.
“Tei, you’re smarter than me. Do...do you think my parents hated me for being who I am?” Tei pauses, wondering if she bit off more than she could chew.
“I don’t know, Smith. I was only assigned here a few years ago. I read their files and surveilled them a few times, but...they didn’t talk about you. I didn’t know you existed until Mullifee invited you back.” Smith snorts and lays his head in his hands.
“Figures. Didn’t want anybody remembering the wastrel son.”
The two sit in silence as the heavy mood weighs down on them. Finally, Tei has a suggestion.
“Smith. Tell me about your folks. How you remember them. You never spoke your piece at the funeral. Now’s your chance.” Smith once again takes a rare moment to think, trying to summarize years of love and scorn in a few sentences.
“Mom was clever. People called her cutthroat, but she liked being smart over being scary. She’d always know how to get a discounted price on something, no matter how rare or expensive. It wasn’t about the money for her; it was about winning. But she won for us. Once, Theroux saved up some money for a bag full of slime pops, and Mulli and I beat him up for them. Mom stopped us...and then taught all three of us how to guilt trip the vendor with his bruises so he’d give us two free bags. I think that’s what got Theroux into business.”
“Dad...Dad moved here from Deltree. I think he cared more about the Banquod name than Mom did. He had his office in the mansion with a tapestry tracing the dynasty all the way back to right before the Vagrant Age. Loved his speeches about discipline and hard work. Vixmalli was his favorite, but he was soft-handed with all of us.”
“They weren’t holy Heshians, and they weren’t perfect people, but...they were my parents. I loved them.”
That sets the tone for the day. Smith tells story after story about his family, some good, some bad, as Tei occasionally interjects or laughs or tells her own story. The sun traces its arc in the sky. The bottles of wine are slowly drained, by Smith and, eventually, Tei. By the time the sun’s about to set, there’s a lightness in the air that neither of them have felt in a long while.
“So...did you ever figure out what you were going to do?” Smith takes another swig from the bottle before continuing. “You seem a lot less stressed about that tentacle now.”
Tei stirs from nursing her own bottle. Drinking in moderation serves her stomach better tonight.
“Oh? Right. I’m...heading to Rentoria for a few months, starting tomorrow. Already got the go-ahead from the local Cult. The Cult is strongest in Deltree, but I know Rentoria has some followers who might be....willing to consider alternatives. I’m not going to lose my faith because of one bad day. I just need to learn how to adapt it.”
“See? I knew you’d come up with something. You’re smart.”
Smith smiles and extends a hand for a hi-five. Instead, Tei just grabs it, looking at it like she’s studying his fingers.
“Now, my turn for a question. Why are we friends, Smith?”
If Smith had an eyebrow, he’d raise it.
“What’s that supposed to mean? We punched a giant monster together. Doesn’t that make us friends?”
Tei just laughs.
“I mean...what was all that at the party? About me ‘believing in you’.”
“Well...you did. I mean..”
Smith flicks himself between the stalks a few times to wake himself up, and then closes his eyes. Every brain cell that isn’t drowning in alcohol’s directed to making sure his words work properly.
“Tei, I had nothing. No plans, no family, almost no money, nobody but Sweet Moreef who’d show me kindness. And you knew. You told me so, right to my face. But you thought I could take on Vix and win. I didn’t even think I could do that. If you hadn’t done that, we’d probably be weird goop creatures because of the Roaloch.”
Smith opens his eyes, half-expecting Tei to be laughing at him for being so sappy. Instead, he sees the luminari with tears in her eyes.
“Smith, that’s...the nicest thing anyone's ever told me.”
“Really? That’s super heshing sad.”
There’s a flash of hurt in Tei’s face. Smith tries to backpedal.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it! And you should appreciate me appreciating it. But...didn’t any of your luminari teachers tell you ‘good job’ or something?”
“No. We learned...indifference. Good, bad, we all get eaten in the end.”
Tei pulls herself to her feet, still clutching Smith’s hand. She half-walks, half-crawls, half-falls into Smith’s lap, pinning him under her armor. She wraps her arms around his shoulders as he tries to protest.
“H-hey, hey, Tei! Careful, those are some of my favorite muscles you’re sitting on!” As Smith tries to push back, she locks her arms around him and pulls herself up to his cheek.
“Just...kept feeling small after the Beaching...didn’t want to feel...powerless...wanted to be important...to someone.”
Smith doesn’t see the kiss, or even hear it. He just feels something soft press against his cheek, for a moment. Then, she collapses against him, out like a light. Smith tries to lift her, but between his position and her armor, there’s nothing to be done about it. The kra’deshi sighs and tries to get some rest himself. Out in the sky, the stars flicker on one by one.
Smith wakes up and goes through the usual wakeup checks. He’s hungover; not surprising. He’s not in a bed; also not surprising. He’s not face-down in a ditch and he’s not badly bruised from a beating, so good for him. He gets up and stretches as memories start to filter back in. He’s in a burnt-out building. Tei brought him here. They spent the day drinking, and the night…
Ah. Right. So that’s why his legs were so sore.
Smith looks around and finds that he’s alone. He staggers down into the burnt guts of the safehouse, searching room by room until he finds Tei. He eventually finds her near the door, just about to leave. She freezes like a pickpocket caught with their hand in someone’s purse.
“...Good morning, Smith.” Tei coughs awkwardly, wincing at a headache.
“Um. Hey. How’s the hangover.”
“Manageable. I got some stimulants from some bilebroker. Make it easier to deal with.”
“That’s good. You ready for your trip?”
“The ship to Rentoria leaves in six hours, but I have errands to run beforehand.”
“Ah, makes sense.”
Each sentence only seems to bolster the awkwardness. The two look at each other, trying to see which one of them would drag out what happened last night first, addressing what could have only happened under the auspices of drink. Smith, taking advantage of his lack of tact, takes the lead.
“So...do you not want to talk about it?”
Tei huffs, not meeting Smith’s eyes.
“You said you weren’t the marrying type when we met, and even the more permissible sides of the Cult don’t let the luminari marry outsiders. So there’s nothing to talk about.”
“Marriage?” Smith practically chokes on the word. “Hesh no. I can’t stand all those contracts, and Mullifee would force me to work my butt off to get approved for it. But...listen. I think you’re lonely, and...I guess I’m lonely too?”
Smith pauses at words he didn’t expect to come out of his mouth.
“Point is that I liked hanging out with you yesterday, even when it got all sappy and touchy-feely in the end. And I want to know how you feel about that.”
Tei glances at Smith, some internal struggle running behind her eyes. When she speaks, it’s like she’s pulling a piece of meat out of a lumincyte’s jaws.
“I...think I liked it. But I feel like I’ve been doing a lot of crazy stuff lately because of stress and drink, and shouldn’t take my cues from that. And I was hoping to avoid having this conversation. I’m still a luminari. Just because my faith’s changing doesn’t mean I can make getting drunk a regular thing, let alone…” Tei trails off, her face hot.
“But I think we are friends, Smith, and I want to keep that. If there’s anything more...we’ll deal with that later. Is that fine?”
Smith looks at Tei. There’s...something bubbling up from inside him. Something he’d usually dull with drink. And yet, he resists the urge to go for his flask.
“Yeah. It is. Just make sure you send me letters from Rentoria. I know you’ll be busy showing those Rents up, but...I don’t want to lose track of you for a few years and find a different person, alright?”
“I’ll write. Post takes a while to get here from Rentoria, but it’ll get here.”
Some conversation follows, but what must be said is said. Soon, with a final look and a hug, Tei steps outside, off to find guidance in Rentoria, to become an occasional heartfelt letter that arrives in the post. Smith returns to the roof, absorbed by this new well of emotions inside him. There’s a bit of wine left over in the bucket from last night; it goes untouched.
Perhaps he’d take the day off from drinking. Go see Vix and Mulli for a bit, talk about what happened after he left. Cry in his room for a bit for no reason in particular. It didn’t feel like it would be fun, but..it feels like it needs to be done, nonetheless. And so, Smith Banquod leaves, off to listen to his heart like he hasn’t in years, to become whatever it makes him.