Chapter 132. Dawn: Owner’s Appeal

It opened without ceremony because ceremony had been domesticated overnight. The post wore the docket like a bruise proud of its lesson: OWNER: FINAL APPEAL—NOW OPEN. The well refused to ring; bells had been hired to carry soup. The ward-stones leaned in with the vulgarity of old men who have earned the right to applaud grief when grief writes minutes correctly.

Alicia did not mount any Seat. She stood at the edge of each ring as if a refrain could be sung from six corners simultaneously. Her outline was exact and insufficient. She looked less like a woman insisting and more like a document begging to stay legible. “I appeal,” she said in a voice that learned honesty late. “Not to finish Seren now. To finish finishing. Return the engine to a room that knows how to be responsible. License your quiet so it can pay tax. Teach your benches to respect chairs when chairs behave.”

Hesta answered for the hall because she had practiced all night for the brief luxury of getting on