CH208 · Rewrite
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Chapter 208: I’m Truly a Fool

Lily wrapped her wet hair in a towel and admitted, in the privacy of her own room, what she had said in public she would never admit.

The shower was fantastic.

Standing under the cold water after a day in the hot summer sun had the specific quality of relief that she had previously associated with the moment just before sleep — the body abandoning something it had been holding since morning. The castle bathroom smelled like Soraya’s paint and clean stone, and the grasslike surface under her feet was softer than tile had any right to be.

She had told His Highness that building a shower to take a better bath was exactly what she would expect from a lord’s excessive devotion to luxury.

She had meant it at the time.

“Traitor!”

She lifted the hair from her eyes. Mystery Moon was sitting upright in the middle of her bed like a very accusatory piece of furniture, one finger pointed. “You said you didn’t believe in the ball theory, and now you’re the first one to evolve. You’re a huge liar.

“I still don’t believe everything is made of balls,” Lily said. She sat on her edge of the bed and took Mystery Moon’s hand, which was the fastest way to stop the pointing. “How could it be? Rocks? Steel? You’re telling me solid rock is just a pile of tiny balls and doesn’t collapse into sand? Explain that to me.”

“But Nightingale said your magic changed —”

“His Highness explained it.” Lily shrugged, or gave the version of a shrug that worked while also toweling her hair. “You don’t have to accept the whole theory. You have to understand your own ability deeply. Really look at it from the inside until it shows you something new.” She paused. “That’s what he said, anyway.”

Mystery Moon’s lower lip extended by approximately three millimeters. “I’ve been trying. Magnetic fields are invisible. The microscope doesn’t help. What am I supposed to look at?”

“I don’t know.” Lily lay back on the pillow. “Ask Anna.”

Silence.

“Anna is very busy,” Mystery Moon said, eventually. “All the machines in the town —”

“Then find her when she’s not working.” Lily closed her eyes. “After dinner. When she goes to the courtyard. Ask her to let you watch the bath water heat, and ask her questions while you do it.” She opened one eye. “She’s not going to be annoyed at you. She answers questions. That’s what she does.”

Mystery Moon lay down on her side. “She’ll say complicated things.”

“She will.”

“Things I won’t understand.”

“Probably.”

“So what’s the use?”

“Write down what you don’t understand,” Lily said. “Then ask about those parts separately. That’s how class works. His Highness talks about things none of us understand, and then we figure out which parts we don’t understand and ask about those, and eventually some of it starts to make sense.” She reached for the candle. “Start with the compass. Why does it point north? That’s your ability, north is your ability — start there.”

“He said we’re inside a huge magnetic field,” Mystery Moon said, slowly. “That the earth itself is a magnet. So my ability is — responding to the earth?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Lily was genuinely tired now. “Tell me tomorrow.”

“What if she explains it with more complicated things?”

“Then you write those down too.” Lily pinched the candle out. “Go to sleep.”


The next morning, Lily did not go to the kitchen.

She went to the microscope.

The new task from His Highness was specific: before the textbook arrived, she was to catalogue the microscopic world. Sketch everything she could see. The shapes, the sizes, the movement patterns. She could not yet write, but she could draw, and his instruction had been explicit: drawing was sufficient.

She drew for most of the morning. The transparent-bodied creatures with the hair-oars. The squared ones with the internal chambers. The very small ones that moved too fast to draw and had to be approximated from memory. She labeled each sketch with a letter and made a separate key describing what it did: direction of movement, speed relative to the others, what happened when two of them met.

By midday she had twelve pages.

She put the pencil down and rubbed her hand and looked at what she had produced: a catalog of things that had existed before any of them knew they existed, hidden in the water they walked past every day.

I’ve been in there with them, she thought. Every time I kept food fresh, I was doing something to them, and I never knew what.

She picked up the pencil and added a thirteenth page.

On it she drew the mothers: eight-paired tentacles, round body, the arrangement she had seen in the fog of the water drop. She drew one and then drew more of them and drew the ordinary microorganisms changing as the contact spread. She drew the rows. She drew the salute.

She did not know what to call what she was looking at.

But she wrote at the top of the page, carefully, the letters she had learned: mine.


Mystery Moon returned that evening with the expression of a person who has encountered something large and is still deciding which direction to approach it from.

“She said a lot,” Mystery Moon said, falling onto the bed facedown. “I didn’t understand most of it.”

“Did you write it down?”

A pause. “Some of it.”

“What did you write?”

“She said the magnetic field is everywhere. That the compass works because we live inside the field of the whole earth. That moving charged particles create a magnetic field around them. That a changing magnetic field creates electricity.” Mystery Moon turned her head sideways to be able to speak more clearly. “She said my ability might be responding to the earth’s field instead of creating one. Or both. She said it was hard to know without more testing.”

“That’s more than you had this morning.”

“I still don’t understand most of it.” She was quiet for a moment. “Am I stupid?”

Lily considered the honest answer, and delivered it. “A little.”

“Traitor.”

“You asked.”

Mystery Moon rolled over and stared at the ceiling. “I want to be useful,” she said, quietly. Not complaint — something more earnest than that. “I want to do something that helps. Not just — hold metal things in place. Something.

“You will,” Lily said. “Keep asking.”

She meant it. She had seen enough of how the learning worked here, how His Highness moved from a question to an experiment to something practical that existed in the world where before it had only been a thought. Mystery Moon’s ability was going to be useful. She did not know how yet. That was the whole point of the asking.

“Blow the candle,” she said.

Mystery Moon climbed to the foot of the bed and blew it out.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

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