Crow had been surprised to find Rajah knocking upon his door. More surprised when the boy began their conversation by apologising as he answered it.

He’d recognised the Jyptian instantly, though found him a peculiar sight. Flesh sagged beneath his eyes, exhaustion seeming to dim their colours. His brass skin was lined, hair flattened from the artful disheavelment it seemed always to have.

It was a frightful state to see him in, yet more frightful still was the strength that seemed to hold him in spite of it. As if fatigue had no grip on him at all.

“Morning Crow.” He’d said, smiling like a crescent moon. Just a touch too wide.

“Good morning.”

“How is she?” The boy asked abruptly, seemingly without hearing Crow’s answer. There was no need to ask who he referred to.

Crow’s mood soured as he thought of Gem.

“Better.” He said. “She’s woken up, at the very least. Though…”

It occurred to him that, however friendly, Rajah was of an opposing team. Their strongest member’s condition could undoubtedly be counted among those secrets too sensitive to be shared thoughtlessly.

Certainly her refusal of further treatment was to be kept private.

“Though she’s not fully recovered.” Rajah finished for him, nodding solemnly. His regret was palpable. “Of course. I’d be amazed if she was.”

A silence grew between them, uncomfortable and grim. It might have been novel to see Rajah without words, were it for any other reason.

“I’m sorry.” The boy blurted out. For a moment Crow was wordless. Then he gathered his wits to speak, even without knowing what he ought to say.

“It wasn’t your fault.” He tried. “No need to-.”

“I was the team leader.” Rajah pressed. “Unofficially, at least. Certainly I held more sway over things than the others. And stories of dakara are no less common in Jyptia than they are anywhere in Unix.”

“Stories didn’t warn us, either.”

Rajah fell to a thoughtful silence at that. When he next spoke it was with a lighter tone by far.

“I can’t accept your forgiveness so easily.” He said, brusk. “Won’t. Maybe it’s a done thing here, but in Jyptia a sin isn’t considered erased until it’s been drowned in drink and buried in food.”

“That seems like it would result in a lot of hangovers and aching stomachs.”

“Pessimistic, aren’t you? No matter. Free meals cure that trait in anyone. What do you say?”

He smiled, and Crow couldn’t help but let the expression infect him.

“Your treat? We’d love to join you.”

Crow felt his stomach seize at the sound of Unity’s voice, turning to the boy as he approached from behind Rajah in the hall. He smiled, as the Jyptian did. Swaggered, too. Seemed frightfully alike the boy in a half dozen ways.

Yet the mischievous glint in his eye left them as different from each other as night and day.

“What?” The artificial asked, eyes dancing at the confusion on Rajah’s face. “I’m on the Gemini’s team too, you know. Doesn’t that entitle me to a drink?”

The three of them set off after barely more talk than that.

Pain had made a nest in Gem’s side. Taking refuge beneath her broken ribs, living quietly. For the most part. Then making itself known at every move with a whip of fire.

It hurt more as a reminder than a physical sensation. Stinging dignity worse than nerves.

My dignity? I’m battered, bruised, got my arse kicked in front of a million people and can’t even walk to shit in a toilet. What’s left to wound?

Gem had honesty left, at least. Honesty enough to realise that it was pride she clung to. That, frail as she was, it may well have been all that sustained her.

Deka walked back in, torturous curiosity having been wiped from her face. She sat back beside Gem briskly.

“The sound was Rajah visiting Crow. It seems the two of them are going out for a drink. Unity Eden is tagging along, though I think he may have made that decision himself.”

“What makes you think it’s for a drink?” Gem asked.

She didn’t particularly care what answer was given, but simply seeking and receiving one was a distraction. Distractions, above all other things, were what she needed. One of the few meagre sanctuaries she could find in her own head.

“I don’t follow.”

Deka frowned, the expression so deep it seemed to fold her face in half. As it always did when she encountered something that confused her. Strange girl.

“Nevermind.” Gem sighed. “I prattle.”

“Alright.” The girl answered, dissatisfied. Any other time Gem might have tried to appease her curiosity, but tiredness left her every word precious.

“Do you need anything?” Deka asked. “It’s been a while since you ate.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Gem said.

The truth was her stomach did throb with hunger, if only a touch. However the thought of eating was paired with thoughts of her filled chamber pot, and the poor servant who had to clean it up. The poor servant who Gem would be demonstrating her own infirmity to by failing to use the privy.

“Alright then. You know I’ll be in the other room if you need me, for now I think I’ll go and get back into that book I was telling you about.”

She’d told Gem about it exhaustively, though the walls of her mind had filtered out all information but its name.

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A disquieting genealogical pattern among the nobles of Unix. Wordy way of picking a fight.

“Wait.” Gem said, giving the girl pause as she was halfway to her feet and surprising even herself. She struggled to speak for a moment, agonising over how to word her question. Then grew tiresome of the apprehension and blurted it out in a rush.

“What do you think about someonewho fails to…”

Live up to her potential? I might as well just be upfront with all my fears.

She thought fast, adjusting her words almost as quickly as she voiced them.

“Doesn’t make the most of the opportunities they have.” She said, finally. A perfect question; one that could mean anything or nothing.

“You’re worried your talents are wasted on you?” Deka asked.

Fuck.

“I didn’t say that.” Gem answered, too quickly by half. She cursed herself again. “Just answer the damned question.”

Far from insulting her, the show of annoyance brought a smile to the girl’s face. Deka, Gem had learned, enjoyed being right.

“What do you mean by asking what I think of someone? That’s quite an ambiguous question. What do I think of them as a person? What do I think of their role in society?”

“What do you think of their deeds.” Gem specified. “Or rather, would you say they’ve failed a duty of sorts.”

Deka’s eyes softened. Her pity touched Gem like a rod of forged iron against skin, red and screaming from the furnace’s heat.

“I suppose you could restructure the question to be one of whether they have a duty to begin with, based purely on their talent.”

Gem felt a smile tug at her mouth. Deka was wonderfully quick.

“You could.” She agreed. “And how would you answer that question?”

Deka didn’t speak immediately, waiting for long, agonising seconds to continue. Her voice was careful when she did. Tranquilizing.

“I don’t believe being born with talent translates to an obligation to use it.” She said. The slowness of her voice, the careful selection of every word, left Gem suspicious and attentive.

“But you do believe something similar.”

The luminar practically winced, face unguarded as ever.

“I think there’s an argument for something similar, at least.”

“Stop trying to mollify me, Deka. I’d rather hear your thoughts unabridged and judge their entirety than be left wondering about what you didn’t say.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Deka licked her lips, didn’t say anything for a few moments. Gem knew better than to try and hurry her, doing so would only leave the girl stammering and unintelligible.

“I don’t think simply being born with great talent means you’re obligated to use it to its fullest potential. But, assuming you’re asking about you, I don’t think you’ve simply been born with great talent.”

Gem frowned despite herself.

“I don’t follow.” She said, irritated by the admission as much as the fact.

“I mean that you’ve benefitted greatly from how powerful you are, haven’t you? Pit, your standard wardrobe is expensive enough to feed a family for months. I think you’re asking the wrong question by fixating on your magical aptitude alone. It’s the privilege and leisure you’ve gotten from it that should really be testing you.”

Saying nothing, Gem studied the girl.

“Did you get that from a book?” She asked at last.

It had been meant as a jest, but Deka’s eyes quickly fell.

“Sort of.” she mumbled. “Lesdraya, the Qyquaran philosopher, wrote a fairly… uh, detailed critique about the way mystics live in Mirandis. He’s far more frustrated and… vocal about it than I, but I borrowed some of the eloquence from those things we agree on.”

More frustrated and vocal about his dislike of talented mystics than the talented mystic? How bizarre.

“I’ll never understand how people do that.” Gem muttered. “Dredge up passages from things they read months or years ago, then weave it into conversation without a single frayed seam. You do it, and Karma does it. My damned father does it. It’s infuriating.”

Deka smiled like a little girl caught stealing sweets, though her face grew serious quickly.

“I didn’t have a normal childhood.” The girl said, reluctance painting her words. “My father was… not a good man. But he was a talented mystic and brilliant scientist. And obsessed with umbra magic.”

Gem was speechless. Deka, the child of a mage aberrant? Unthinkable. The girl seemed far from done even with that revelation.

“The Alliance teaches that magic is all about will, but he had an altogether different philosophy. Holding that what truly mattered was not the depths of one’s determination and resolve, but the sharpness of their intellect.”

She spoke as though quoting someone, Gem could guess who.

“He believed above all that such a thing grew from birth, and that its beginning was as important as the years it spent developing.”

“Fuck, Deka. You’re not saying…”

Gem couldn’t bring herself to finish. Her head swam as a hundred puzzle pieces slotted together, their picture impossible to deny. Yet painting so terrible she couldn’t help but try.

“I’m not an artificial.” The girl continued, tone hurried. “At least not like Eden. I’m just… different. Altered. Father decided it was best to take a…” She paused, as if the very word caught in her throat. “...a natural human, then change it. Rather than create new life from scratch.”

Smart. Gem thought, before she could stop herself. That’s where most mage abberants fuck up.

“Is that why you’re… you know.”

Deka’s eyes hardened.

“I won’t be discussing myself or the success, Gem. What I’m getting at is that as part of that madman’s plan, I grew up with all the knowledge I could want. One book after another, reading a small fortune’s worth every month. Do you know what I did with that knowledge?”

Gem had no answer but her silence.

“Nothing. I stayed put for years until he was finally found by the Alliance. All that knowledge, all that exposure to the outside world through writings and musings. All for nothing. Would you say I failed my duty?”

Again Gem failed to answer. Couldn’t imagine how she might.

“Whether your talent brings a duty or not, Gem, you didn’t fail it by losing. Nobody can expect to win against mystics years older than them, certainly not at fourteen.”

And yet Gem had. She’d expected the unreasonable, because she’d never been disappointed in doing so before. Spoiled by her own power and lack of scope. Worse, made stupid by it. Her father had used his own talent to slay pirates, force peace between nations, keep entire empires from one another’s throats. She’d simply fallen into addiction.

It was only just that she get her commupance for the delusion, only just that she felt the hollow ache of having gone days without touching it as fear stayed her hand. Many would have gotten worse.

“Thank you Deka.” She said, forcing her smile. After a moment it felt real even to her, warming the luminar’s face. “Really, thank you.”

Deka leaned forwards, closing her hand around Gem’s and squeezing briefly as she stood.

“Let me know if you need to talk about anything else.” She said. “I’ll make time.”

Gem watched Deka leave as she thought. Ice creeping back into her mind with every step, like a desert struck by hail.

Lavastro disagrees with you, Deka.

Of that much she was certain. Lavastro, who’d spent so many hours teaching Gem. Lavastro, who’d been born with barely a smidge less talent. Lavastro, who in spite of it all had never even blinked while forcing herself to make the most of her own potential.

She wouldn’t agree with Deka for one moment. Worse, she lived by that disagreement. As principled as any Gem had met.

And even with years of effort trying to bring Gem up to that standard, she’d failed. So lazy, so entitled and lavish, she’d not even sharpened her mind enough to best a group of teenagers. To save herself.

What greater proof could there be for any tutor that their charge was unworthy of training?