In Which Nora Ponders the Infinite

June 12, 1179

Nora picked at the embroidery of her dress, a loose thread snapping as she pulled it a little far. God, she was sick of all this rain. She was itching for a ride, but the ground was too soft for her horse and she didn't want to come home drenched besides. And she definitely didn't want to get sick and pass it on to the kids, who had already had their late spring colds.

But that left her... well, bored. The younger children were down for their naps and the older ones were otherwise occupied and had little use for her. Severin was following up on some more Remiel business and Falidor had left early on account of the weather. As for Jadin and Xeta... well, they'd said they were trying for another baby, but good luck ever getting pregnant in that position. She'd looked around Severin's study for any paperwork that might have been incomplete, even waited around to see if any petitioners had complaints worth braving the weather for, but no such luck.

God, she needed a hobby that she could do indoors! Maybe Raia needed an associate for her toy-making business. Or maybe she ought to have some lumber brought in and do some supplementary carpentry for Rifden; wasn't as if Jothein had taught her nothing, after all. Or maybe...

"You look tired."

Severin shut the door behind him and Nora pushed herself out of her recline, yawning. "Arguably. How did the interrogation go?"

"About as well as I expected--namely, not so much." He took a seat on the other couch and cast a wary look at each of the room's doors. "Xeta's not around, is she?"

"No. She and Jadin are... uh, preoccupied." He didn't look surprised. Too bad the knowing exasperation was hardly the prominent feeling. "Why?"

Severin's eyes lingered on the door a second longer before snapping back to her. "Remember that theory I bounced off of you a couple months ago?"

That was it, then. So much for hoping that it was just some sort of golem. That poor little boy. "He confirmed it?"

Her husband nodded. "Such a tragic existence for a child--for anyone, really. If it were me, I'd want to be destroyed." He sighed, raising a hand to rub at his graying temples. It was perhaps the first time he'd ever looked old. "But now knowing what he is--"

"You don't think you could."

"Exactly."

Was there a right thing to do here? Nora had met the suit of armor--Farilon--the last few times she'd called on his mother. He'd seemed happy enough. But would he be, after Celina and Ovrean passed? After Xeta and the rest of his siblings? After his nieces and nephews and their children and their children and their children after them? Was there anything but pain in infinity when all else was finite?

And yet... what could be done? And what right had they to decide? "Celina has to know. It'll kill her, but she has to know. She's the only one who might know what to do." Might. And that was a long shot. She had to know anyway.

"I know." And yet, he looked as shocked and confused as he might have if he didn't. She'd be lying if she said she didn't feel the same. "That brings up the issue of how to tell her."

"I don't think there's any kind way."

"Nor any tactful way, no." Severin's fingers coiled around the edge of the couch cushion, his knuckles pale. "That woman has never done wrong by anyone in her entire life, and she already lost her son once. The last thing she deserves is to lose him again. And the last thing he deserves is a life that no sane person could stand to live."

And that was life. People didn't get what they deserved. Life wasn't fair.

But this wasn't just unfair. This was horrific. "We don't have to tell her right away. We should take the time to figure out the gentlest way to break it to her."

"Assuming that such a way exists."

Sometimes, she wished they weren't so frequently on the same page. "God willing."

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