we are not truly immortal

[dark_light]

After Glass's party is over with, Amariah and Kas go home.

Amariah fetches down their alethiometers.

"It's about time I took care of Alethia's afterlife, whatever it may be," she says quietly. "What can the alethiometer tell you about what I'll find?"

Comments

[pythbox]

"Pretend," one harpy jeers, but the others shush her.

[lifes_sake]

"I thought it was pretend," says Cam. "But I found out it wasn't, quick enough. My name appeared in the list of local wizards. I could hear things around me speaking. Especially my collection of notebooks, in which I wrote everything - all my thoughts, everything I did with my life, what I wanted. And they all chorused together to say hello to me, and I was thrilled to pieces. And I talked to my manual too, and got it to teach me the spells I needed to put my notebooks all together in one, magic notebook. And I did, and I named her Grace."

[pythbox]

One of the circling harpies bursts out with, "But what did it feel like?"

[lifes_sake]

"Having Grace to talk to was amazing. I'd put so much of me into all those notebooks that she knew me as well as I knew myself, and she wanted to help me, with anything she could, and I was so happy to be understood that perfectly by something that was a part of me but had her own voice."

[pythbox]

A shiver passes through the whole flock at this.

[lifes_sake]

"Is this what you want? Stories about people's lives and how they felt?"

[pythbox]

"We've never had them before," says one harpy.

"They're tasty," says another.

"New."

"Different."

"Good."

[lifes_sake]

"Amariah, see if it works for you," Cam murmurs.

[dark_light]

"My childhood was a lot like his," Amariah says. "Except my parents are still married even though they aren't happy that way, and except that the part of me with his own voice has been with me since I was born, and he's got feathers that feel like starlight and he always knows when I'm about to do something I'd regret, and he can't come here, but our sweetie's holding him safe on the dock, and when I had to walk away from him when I was thirteen, it felt like my heart was torn out, and some people's daemons don't forgive them for a long time but I knew my Path would and he did, because we understand ourselves and he knew why."

[pythbox]

The harpies circle lower, lower, until they finally settle into perches on the trees and the ground.

(Kas's ghost friends have long since fled.)

[dark_light]

Amariah tells them the story of casting her first spells and the feel of power pouring from her, of cutting her first cloud-pine and learning to fly and the wind in her hair, of choosing Metis for her teacher and moving away from her clan enclave, of meeting Kas and buying him lunch, of finding Shell Bell in Milliways and founding the Belltower. She is lavish in her details.

[lifes_sake]

Meanwhile, Cam whispers to the alethiometer about what's helping and what isn't.

[truthwright]

Kas consults his, too.

[pythbox]

The harpies, it turns out, like true stories. Nourishment and flavour come from emotion and detail.

[dark_light]

Amariah carries on telling her story. She skips over dull sections, but she dives into extreme detail with the parts she opts to use, when Cam and Kas report on the alethiometer's replies.

She brings up her tale to the present day.

And explains what she and the others are doing here.

"With Downside handled there are two afterlives left that aren't up to our standards. And this is one of them. And I want to fix it. That's why me and Cam and Kas and Aianon are here, and what Shell Bell was doing here before Sherlock had to pull her out, and why we wanted to talk to you."

[pythbox]

There is a general muttering among the harpies.

[dark_light]

"There are billions of shades here. I'm sure some of them would be willing to tell you their stories, whatever they can still remember."

[pythbox]

"And then what?" says a harpy.

"Do you expect us to just... leave them alone?"

"When they're so delicious?"

"And it's our purpose—"

"The Authority gave it to us—"

"Our very own!"

"Our duty!"

"Ours!"

[dark_light]

"...Who is the Authority?" asks Amariah slowly.

[pythbox]

"The Authority."

"The Creator."

"The one who made us."

"Made the worlds."

"Made everything."

[dark_light]

"Where is he? Why did he make you like this?"

[lifes_sake]

Cam has much the same question for the alethiometer.

[pythbox]

"We don't know," says a harpy, as though this should be the single most obvious fact in the worlds. "Why would he tell us?"

"Not our business."

"To know where the Authority is."

[truthwright]

"The Authority dwells at the summit of the Clouded Mountain," says the alethiometer. "He gave the harpies their purpose for reasons of his own."

[lifes_sake]

Cam passes this on to the group, via link.