Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Alhaitham next came to the tavern a few weeks later, and he was followed by the guy in the really large hat. Cyno had seen him flying around the Akademiya with his feet narrowly missing people’s heads, but he’d never learned his name. Alhaitham, of course, said nothing and sat down, and then the hat guy stood next to their table for so long that they realized that he intended to stay.

Why is he here? Cyno wondered.

“Why is he here?” Tighnari asked frankly.

“I can hear you. And I’m on assignment,” said the guy in the hat. “I’m supposed to have a drink with you.”

You were assigned to drink at a tavern with us? Cyno thought.

“You were assigned to drink?” Kaveh said enviously. “Does this mean you’ll get the next round, err—”

The hat guy made a low, drawn-out sighing noise. “Call me Wanderer for now,” he said, walking away. Cyno wasn’t sure if that was a yes or a no.

Tighnari said, “Where did he come from?”

“We were in the same meeting,” said Alhaitham. “He followed me here.”

Kaveh squinted at him. “You didn’t find that alarming, being followed?”

“Not when he’s an envoy of the Dendro Archon. She gave him the assignment.”

“Why didn’t you start with that?” Cyno said. Tighnari laughed, and Cyno narrowed his eyes at him. Tighnari always laughed at the wrong times, never at any of Cyno’s actual jokes.

Alhaitham shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it.”

“So Lesser Lord Kusanali sent him here?” said Tighnari.

Kaveh flinched. “What?” said Tighnari.

“It’s so odd that you all met her,” said Kaveh. “Like, you know her personally. Oh look, he’s back.”

Wanderer’s feet narrowly missed Kaveh’s empty glass as he flew over the table. “I didn’t know what you all wanted, so I got what I wanted.” He set down a tray of identical-looking drinks, and they passed them around. Inside was one of the murkiest liquids Cyno had ever seen.

He took a sip and spluttered. The taste was strong, tart and cloying.

“This is terrible,” said Tighnari, with a sour look. Even Alhaitham had a pinched expression.

A wide grin spread across Wanderer’s face. “More for me,” he said cheerfully.

Kaveh was peering into his glass. “Not great, but not awful. What is it?”

Wanderer’s mouth fell open. “You’re nuts.”

“This explains his cooking,” said Alhaitham.

“Like yours is any better!” said Kaveh.

“Did you want to sit down?” Tighnari asked. “The hovering is bothering me.”

Wanderer huffed. “Fine.”

They were at one of the smallest square tables, so Cyno squeezed around the corner to make room. He was careful not to make contact with Alhaitham’s legs as he scooted his chair closer, which wasn’t easy.

“What was your meeting about?” Cyno asked, before Alhaitham and Kaveh could really get started arguing. Not that their bickering wasn’t amusing in its own way, even if he didn’t really understand it.

“Since you like games, I’ll give you one guess,” Alhaitham said, rolling his shoulders back. He really had excellent posture. The collar of his black shirt covered the point where his back met his neck, but Cyno could see the shape in profile.

Tighnari said, “You proposed to Naphis that he become the Grand Sage.”

“Point to Tighnari,” said Alhaitham.

“That was my guess, as well,” said Cyno, glancing at Tighnari, who shrugged as if to say, you snooze you lose.

“So, what happened?” said Kaveh.

Wanderer’s grin reappeared. “Both the sages turned it down,” he said. Cyno frowned.

“That makes you happy?” Tighnari asked, also frowning. His tail thumped.

“Happiness? Don’t tell me you believe in that,” said Wanderer, still grinning. “Happiness is just a lie we tell ourselves to keep living.”

Kaveh was the only one still sipping from his glass. “I suppose it is rather acidic. What is it again?”

“I’m happy,” said Cyno. “I don’t think it’s a lie.” He could feel Tighnari looking at him.

“You happy?” Wanderer asked Alhaitham.

“I’ll think about it,” said Alhaitham.

They waited, but Alhaitham remained utterly still.

“I’ll have to think about it for a while,” Alhaitham added eventually. “It’s not something that I contemplate very often.”

“Oh,” said Cyno, because that was different, too.

“It’s distilled tea made from Harra fruit leaves. Aged for years and years,” said Wanderer. “The person who picked them is probably dead now. Think of it as hundred-year-old kombucha.”

Kaveh’s jaw dropped. “Harra leaves. Not the fruit. You’re telling me it tastes like shit and doesn’t even have alcohol?”

“You’re the one that wanted to know.” Wanderer looked happy again.

“Hey, you said the taste wasn’t that bad,” said Tighnari.

“Obviously I was lying to myself,” said Kaveh mournfully.

Alhaitham laughed. He had a short laugh that ended as soon as it started, like it was escaping from a box whose lid was opened and then shut in quick succession. The distinctive sound surprised Cyno, who hadn’t heard it the whole time they’d worked together to save Sumeru.

“Alright, what do you want instead?” Tighnari said, standing.

“Anything,” said Kaveh. “With alcohol.”

Tighnari said, “Alhaitham, come with me.” Alhaitham raised his eyebrows, but he started to slide his chair back. Cyno, who was preoccupied by Tighnari asking Alhaitham instead of him, made an aborted attempt to scoot to the side to make room without touching him. In doing so, he banged his own leg into the table, and his elbow went to the side to catch himself, while also managing to knock over one of Wanderer’s horrible drinks. He lunged for it and snagged the bottom just as it tipped onto Alhaitham.

“Fuck,” said Cyno. The liquid dripped down Alhaitham’s front, darkening the lower half of his translucent shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Wanderer looked like he might float with happiness.

“No need. The shirt’s washable,” said Alhaitham calmly, taking a few napkins. Cyno followed suit, mopping the sticky table.

“I didn’t spill on just your shirt,” said Cyno, scowling at the attempt to downplay his mishap.

“I am also washable,” said Alhaitham.

Cyno would have laughed, but suddenly he was trying not to think about Alhaitham showering.

Kaveh's brow was pinched like he wasn't sure what he was looking at. Perhaps it was the effect of the tightness of Alhaitham’s shirt, how it clung to him even more tightly when wet. Or maybe that was only having an effect on Cyno.

Cyno made the effort to look away.

“Everyone will think you’ve pissed yourself,” said Kaveh.

Cyno stifled his laugh into a cough, or he tried to. Wanderer openly sniggered, but Alhaitham rolled his eyes and said, “They will not,” then left with Tighnari. The tavern was packed now, so they quickly disappeared from view.

“Are you really here because of Kusanali?” Cyno asked Wanderer. Kaveh made another weird face, and his leg started jiggling under the table.

Wanderer glared. “Yes. Are you going to investigate me?”

“I might check with her next week,” said Cyno.

Kaveh burst out, “I still can’t get over the way you talk about the Dendro Archon. I know you went through a lot to save her, but still. She’s an Archon! A god!”

By now, Kaveh was fully filled in on exactly what had happened when he was out of town. After they ran into Dehya and Dunyarzad at the tavern the first time—since the two of them had come to the tavern a few more times in the weeks since then—Tighnari and Cyno had taken Kaveh to lunch the next day to explain that everything had happened. But Cyno didn’t blame Kaveh for his continued incredulity; it sounded like a dream. A lot of it literally had been.

Though the thing that Kaveh had the most difficulty wrapping his head around wasn't that Cyno’s psyche had been extrapolated into the Akasha, or that Azar had been conspiring with the Fatui to overthrow Lesser Lord Kusanali and replace her with an unknown mechanical god. No, what Kaveh had been most incredulous about was Alhaitham’s involvement. Alhaitham did that? He kept asking. He did what? Really? Alhaitham still hadn’t talked to Kaveh about any of it, which didn’t make things easier.

But Alhaitham really had been a leader, no matter the allegedly selfish reasons he had for doing so. He still was one, however unwilling.

“Archons are just like the rest of us,” said Wanderer, glaring again. Not that he had ever fully stopped. Even his grins had a sort of glare to them, so maybe that was just his default expression.

Cyno couldn’t tell if he was making a provocation or if he meant it. “Why do you think so?”

“Nahida thinks the world of mortals should be governed by mortals. There are so many things she doesn’t understand at all, like the inner workings of the Akademiya. So what good is her godhood?”

“Nahida thinks we should govern ourselves?” Cyno asked.

“Yes,” said Wanderer. “Why do you think she made me her envoy?”

“Is that a real question?” said Cyno. He meant it sincerely, but Wanderer’s glare intensified.

“I don’t think mortals compare to gods,” said Kaveh. “But I’ve never met her, so what would I know?”

“Do you want to?” Cyno asked, “Because if so, we could arrange it. I’m sure she would be happy to meet a friend of ours.” He almost never interacted with her, but obviously Alhaitham did, and so did this Wanderer guy.

“Oh, absolutely not!” Kaveh said, instinctively taking a sip from his drink, then recoiling when he realized what it still was. “No, please don’t.”

“Why?” Wanderer said, looking suspicious.

“Don’t they say ‘never meet your idols’? I like the idea that there’s a being out there greater than all of us, looking out for all of us. I don’t want to rub elbows with them. I’m afraid I’d learn something that I can’t unlearn. What if they make mistakes like we do? But on a scale where when they mess up then someone else pays the consequences, or it affects a whole nation. How could I worship a god like that? No, I’m happier with my imagination,” said Kaveh, all in a rush.

As he listened, Wanderer’s mouth had become progressively smaller. Once he was basically crushing his lips together, he grabbed Kaveh’s drink from his hands. “Stop drinking that, it’s vile,” he said.

“I thought you said it was your favorite,” said Cyno, fearing he was missing something.

“Just because it’s mine doesn’t mean it has to be anyone else’s,” replied Wanderer. “So basically you’re saying you want an ideal to live up to, even if it’s a fake one you constructed in your own mind?”

Kaveh grumbled. “You sound exactly like a certain person.”

“Alhaitham says things like that?” Cyno said, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, all the time. Not that I agree with him.”

Wanderer gripped Kaveh’s drink strongly, having already finished his own. “Do you believe in anything?” he asked Cyno.

“Of course,” Cyno said. Even if those things no longer included an unquestioning belief in the Akademiya, it was just one of those automatic answers, like the fact that he was happy.

“Like what?” Wanderer said.

Cyno said slowly, “I think that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“Take your time,” said Kaveh idly. “No matter how long you think about it, you’ll still be faster than Alhaitham.”

That didn’t make sense, because Alhaitham was the fastest thinker that Cyno knew.

“What’s this about me?” said Alhaitham, making Kaveh jolt in his chair, probably on purpose. He and Tighnari set down the drinks.

“Sorry again. How much was it?” said Cyno. They usually took turns—well, everyone except Kaveh—but Cyno especially owed it tonight.

“Don’t bother,” said Alhaitham. His shirt was still dark in the middle, sticking to his stomach.

Cyno frowned. “Shouldn’t I?”

“That depends. How attached are you to the principle of reciprocity?”

“Ugh,” said Kaveh. “Not this again.”

Cyno frowned more. “Rather. What is it?”

“What we were discussing this morning is transactional, which is distinct from reciprocal, Kaveh,” said Alhaitham.

Wanderer suddenly made an exaggerated show of looking at the wall clock, which had just hit the hour. “That’s my time. Bye.” He flew away quickly and silently, leaving an empty space at the table.

“That was…” Tighnari said, with a mystified look. “Sorry it took so long, they’re swamped tonight.”

He moved Wanderer’s chair back then scooted around the table. Because of the gap, Cyno felt obligated to slide back to his original spot.

Kaveh gratefully sipped his new drink. “Thanks, Tighnari. Is he always like that?”

“I don’t really know him,” said Tighnari, and Cyno said, “Me neither.”

“Yes,” said Alhaitham.

Cyno supposed that made sense, because of Grand Sage business. Speaking of which…

“I just remembered. You said Naphis turned it down. But there's still no circumstance under which you’ll stay on permanently as the Grand Sage?” said Cyno.

“No,” Alhaitham said simply.

Cyno felt he should have expected that once Alhaitham made up his mind about something, that was that, but part of him was disappointed.

Kaveh said, “I expect you have a convoluted plan to find a successor, don’t you.”

Alhaitham said, “It’s not that convoluted. I was thinking I’d pass the title onto the first person that asks for it.”

Tighnari laughed, and Cyno did, too, once he realized it was a joke. Even Kaveh’s requisite eyeroll looked more good-natured than usual.

Sitting there with the three of them, Cyno felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

He and Tighnari were the last ones to leave that night. As they were walking out, Tighnari said, “I almost forgot, I can’t come next week. I’ve got ranger duty until late on Friday, and I won’t have the energy to make it to the city after wrapping up.”

Cyno looked forward to Fridays, which had become livelier since more people started coming. But if Tighnari didn’t come, then it would just be him, Alhaitham, and Kaveh, unless Dehya or Dunyarzad dropped by. Cyno wasn’t sure how he felt about being in that trio.

“What if we come to you in Gandharva Ville?” asked Cyno. “It’s not a problem for me.”

“Hmm. I’m sure Kaveh would. But Alhaitham…” Tighnari paused. “You ask Alhaitham, I’ll ask Kaveh.” He dropped the suggestion like it was no big deal.

“You want me to ask him. Not Kaveh?”

“You work in the same building. And he and Kaveh have… communication issues sometimes. Wait, are you worried? I thought you were getting along now.”

Cyno thought that the entire history of his relationship with Alhaitham could be summed up as “getting along,” if “getting along” meant “mostly ignoring each other apart from the regrettable period of time where he was convinced that Alhaitham was plotting Sumeru’s downfall.”

Though, these days, when they passed each other in the Akademiya hallways, Cyno nodded to him. Sometimes, Alhaitham nodded back. Sometimes he didn’t, which Cyno used to think was rude, but now he was pretty sure that Alhaitham just didn’t notice or hear him. Sometimes he was so deep in concentration, his gaze fixed in the middle distance, that he’d stride through the invisible gaps in a crowd of students instead of going around.

“I guess we get along,” Cyno said. “I’ll ask him. No guarantees he’ll come.”

The next week, Alhaitham came to Gandharva Ville. Kaveh and Cyno traveled together, because they hadn’t known Alhaitham was coming. Except Alhaitham must have taken a different route, as somehow all three of them awkwardly ended up at Tighnari’s front door at the same time.

The person that opened the door was, unexpectedly, Nilou.

“Come in!” She said cheerfully.

Cyno’s stomach twinged with guilt. He hadn’t seen her since the victory feast all those months ago. The guilt doubled when he recalled the posters he’d seen around Sumeru City a few weeks ago, announcing a new dance performance at the Zubayr Theater, as well as the pink and blue invitation Nilou had sent him. He’d meant to attend, but work had monopolized his attention, and he’d forgotten. The letter was likely underneath a pile of papers on his desk.

He needed to ensure he attended her next performance, whenever that was. He could do more.

Nilou welcomed them in with her typical kindness, herding them into the living room, where Cyno was surprised to find Dehya and Dunyarzad but no Tighnari. Dunyarzad scooted over on the couch to make room, and Cyno and Kaveh sprawled out like they had been here a hundred times, which they had been. To Cyno, this place felt as familiar as his own apartment.

Nilou took up perch on a fabric-covered stool, crossing her legs. She reminded Cyno of a wild ibis that might take flight at any moment. Alhaitham sat on the wooden chair, which Cyno knew from experience was the most uncomfortable seat in the house.

“Guys, I have to tell you a story. Guess who beat up six guys with one arm today?” Dehya said. She was leaning back in the rocking chair with her arm spread over the side. Next to her, Alhaitham’s stiff posture made quite the contrast.

“How did they lose their arms?” said Cyno. Alhaitham’s mouth quirked.

“Very funny.” Dehya swung her right arm, rolling her shoulder a few times. “Want an up close and personal demonstration?”

“Another time,” said Cyno. “We don’t need to rehash Aaru Village.”

Alhaitham said, completely flatly, “Why not? I’m up for a threeway.”

Kaveh, who had already acquired a drink somehow, almost spat it. “You—”

Cyno found himself chuckling, while Dehya laughed loudly. Alhaitham said funny things sometimes, and it was impossible to tell if he meant them.

“What, Kaveh?” Alhaitham raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing!”

“A threesome?” said Nilou, raising her eyebrows. Cyno failed to recall if she knew about his fight in the desert with Alhaitham and Dehya.

“Yeah, what do you think, Nilou? About threesomes.” Dehya playfully nudged Dunyarzad, who was turning red.

“Can I say I prefer foursomes?” said Nilou, blinking innocently, which resulted in more laughter.

“I said a threeway, as in a three-way fight,” Alhaitham said, but he looked amused.

“Nilou, your last performance was incredible, but I haven’t seen an announcement about your next one?” said Kaveh, who apparently wasn’t as amused as the rest of them.

Cyno blinked. “You know Nilou?”

“Of course,” said Kaveh. “I go to all her shows when I’m in town.”

“Which means so much to me,” Nilou said airily, offering him a pretty smile. “I’ll look at scheduling another one soon! I’ve been absorbed with the Eleazar project recently.”

“Wonderful,” said Kaveh.

“Collei did so well tonight,” said Dunyarzad. “I think holding classes here was a great idea.”

“The Eleazar project?” Cyno said.

Nilou’s face lit up. “Oh, you haven’t heard! Well, it seems like former sufferers of Eleazar are helped by regular movement, so I was here to teach a class. Actually, it all started because of Dunyarzad.”

Dunyarzad nodded. “I went so many years not being able to use my body, so I started taking Nilou’s classes at Zubayr, even if I could only do the most basic movements. But then after I started dancing, I got stronger in ways that I hadn’t expected. In fact, I’m tracking my progress.” She produced a clipboard and flipped a few pages, pointing to a very complex chart written in purple pen. Cyno squinted, but he couldn’t make sense of it.

“Your vitals are showing improvement, like you theorized,” said Alhaitham dispassionately, though he looked closely at the clipboard as well.

“You already knew?” Cyno asked.

“We saw him on Tuesday,” said Dehya. “No, wait, the week before.”

“Tuesday,” Cyno said, confused.

“I was there to pick up Dunyarzad and it was two in the afternoon, which is prime time for a break, so when I saw him I asked him to lunch,” said Dehya.

“‘Persuaded’ might be more accurate,” said Dunyarzad with a small smile.

“Oh,” said Cyno, who had never considered asking Alhaitham to get lunch together.

That said, he often forgot to eat while working.

“They got lunch. I got coffee,” said Alhaitham.

Dunyarzad flipped the page to another purple chart that Cyno couldn’t understand. “Of course dance is no substitute for the medicine developed by Amurta researchers, but I’ve found that it helps in a complementary way.”

“Dunyarzad’s dancing is beautiful," said Nilou.

Dunyarzad shook her head, but Dehya said, “I, for one, agree. Too bad dance is another thing that the Akademiya will never understand.”

“I’m in favor of dance, personally,” said Kaveh. “It has tremendous aesthetic value.”

Nilou beamed at him, which made Kaveh startle.

Alhaitham said, “Even I strongly maintain the virtues of physical movement. That dance aids recovery from Eleazar, when combined with modern medicine, is also intriguing.”

Cyno was surprised to hear Alhaitham extol the praises of an activity other than reading books, but he supposed you didn't develop shoulders like that through serendipity. And now Nilou was beaming at Alhaitham, too, which Cyno felt was very unusual. Perhaps she, too, had noticed his shoulders.

“Soon, she’ll be stronger than me,” said Dehya proudly, and Dunyarzad just laughed.

The front door made a noise, and in came Tighnari. “I was just walking Collei home,” he said as he hung up his work jacket, which was covered in thorns. “Why are so many of you missing drinks?” He took a count and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a pitcher of beer and another of water, as well as a plate of almonds and dried mushrooms. “I have wine, too,” he said. “I picked up some from Lambad’s the last time we were there.”

There was that “we” again. Such a small word, but it kept expanding.

Nilou and Kaveh settled next to each other to discuss the Zubayr Theater and its architectural merits and faults, while Dunyarzad moved the table so she could demonstrate some of the new dance moves she’d learned today. Dehya began applauding before she had taken even one step.

Alhaitham ditched the hard chair in favor of the couch, putting himself next to Cyno. Tighnari came over and plopped on the floor, which was covered with a dark patterned rug; Cyno had helped him lug it here from the rugmakers. Tighnari had made a big deal about getting a nice rug, because for all the furniture he owned, he was a floorsitter at heart.

“How was patrol?” Cyno asked.

Tighnari finished chugging a glass of water. “It’s exactly what I postulated the last time we talked. The Withering isn’t returning. Once we clear one of them, the affected land is still barren, and getting things to grow like they should is still an issue, but it’s no longer an active infection; it doesn’t spread. Which means my workload is cut in half, but you know… Don’t tell anyone at the Akademiya about that or they’ll assign me some new administrative bullshit.” He looked at Alhaitham.

Alhaitham made no response, so Tighnari went on. “But Amurta had the greatest number of recruits again. So this month I’m busy with these bright-eyed, bushy-tailed—speaking metaphorically, of course—freshmen. They’re fun, but it’s time-consuming. Collei is even helping out. She’s at the level of a full-on ranger now for the most part, in every way except title.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Cyno.

Tighnari picked up the beer pitcher and poured himself a glass. “Once I finish the month, they’ll go back to the Akademiya, and I’ll have so much free time. Now, you’re working overtime again,” he told Cyno reproachfully. “I haven’t seen you as much.”

“‘Again’ implies he once stopped,” Alhaitham said.

“You have a point,” Tighnari returned. Still holding the beer pitcher, he tilted his head at Alhaitham, who nodded, and he topped off Alhaitham’s glass.

“I have a lot to catch up on,” said Cyno. Tighnari bestowed him with an unimpressed look.

Cyno knew he said it all the time, but he really had been busy ever since the incident with Lesser Lord Kusanali. So many scholars had been privy to the kidnapping plot that they still hadn’t found all of them, and the ranks of the matra were diminished because many of them had been in on the scheme, too. He barely made it home some nights to sleep. It was a miracle that he still came out on Friday evenings.

Dunyarzad’s arms relaxed as she finished her dance and took a bow. “Oh,” Tighnari said, looking over. “That reminds me—Dunyarzad, did you choose your Darshan? I was disappointed not to see you in the ranks of Amurta!”

Dunyarzad clasped her wrist in one hand. “No, I still haven’t chosen. So I’m only taking the general classes right now, nothing specialized.”

“Oh? They used to really push us to choose one, since we could switch later if we needed to,” said Tighnari.

Dunyarzad sighed. “They still do that. And I know that I don’t know anything yet. But really, none of the six feels right just yet. Even my classmates don’t care what I have to say, because the study of mythology isn’t part of the curriculum. So I keep putting off the decision.”

“You know lots of things,” said Dehya. “Don’t let those bastards get you down.”

Dunyarzad chewed her lip. “To be honest… I am considering dropping out.”

“Don’t drop out,” said Cyno quickly, setting his drink down.

“I appreciate it, but it feels a bit futile.”

“I’m sure that you can find a place at the Akademiya.” He just hated the thought that Dunyarzad might quit before she had even really started.

“She’s not wrong, Cyno,” said Tighnari gently. “The Akademiya is rigid, and it has no infrastructure for supporting courses of study outside the Darshans’ strict parameters. Dunyarzad, you might have better luck studying abroad to receive your training, for example, in Liyue. They have a great respect for mythology. You could return as an independent scholar, albeit one without the Akademiya’s stamp of approval. Just being realistic about another option.”

“Traveling far away from Sumeru just to be allowed to come back and research it?” Dehya said incredulously.

Nilou nodded. “This doesn’t surprise me. The Akademiya looks down on anything outside itself.”

Taking a seat and picking up her clipboard again, Dunyarzad said unhappily, “Well, I do appreciate the advice. I have a lot to think about.”

As a general rule, Cyno liked rules. He liked orderly operations with clear delineation of roles and responsibilities. He liked hierarchical structures with neat division of labor, and he appreciated the clear boundaries of the six Darshans. If you were interested in a particular area of study, you chose that Darshan. If you weren’t interested in any Darshan’s subjects, then you didn’t join the Akademiya, and you pursued your passion elsewhere. Nilou was a good example, as she was successful in an alternate field.

But it wasn’t exactly fair for Akademiya scholars to look down on people who wanted to study something different, was it? He had thought that the current problem with the Akademiya was the stigmatization of people from the desert, but he was realizing that it was bigger than just that.

Alhaitham and Kaveh had become absorbed in their own argument, like they were in their own giant soundproof bubble. A snippet of their conversation escaped, Alhaitham saying, “And this is why we will never see eye-to-eye on throw pillows.” He finished his glass, his hair catching the last remnants of the evening light as he tipped his head back to swallow the dregs.

Kaveh said, pointing, “I’ll have you know, I— wait. Why is it so quiet?” He looked at the rest of the table.

“I was thinking,” said Cyno. “That just because we saved the world, doesn’t mean it doesn’t still need saving.”

Tighnari smiled. “Melodramatic.”

“The double negatives,” said Kaveh, looking confused.

“...are linguistically sound,” said Alhaitham.

“Don’t you find it exciting?” Nilou said. “My performances are never perfect, because if they were, there would be nothing to work on, and nothing to look forward to. I think it’s like that. If the world were perfect, there would be nothing left to do.”

Exciting. Cyno hadn’t associated a word like that with the Akademiya in years. When he first joined the matra, he’d been determined to prove himself, then again when he first became general. And until recently, he’d maintained an unwavering conviction that he was doing the right thing. He desperately missed that feeling now, even though he remained committed to his responsibilities.

“That’s… an interesting way of looking at it,” said Tighnari.

“It is interesting,” said Alhaitham, picking up the beer pitcher. But when he said it, it sounded different than Tighnari.

You find Nilou interesting? Cyno didn’t say.

Kaveh pushed his glass forward.

Alhaitham pulled the pitcher back from him. He filled Dehya, Dunyarzad, and Nilou’s glasses, before doing Kaveh’s, and only halfway.

“Why didn’t you use your other arm?” asked Kaveh suddenly.

“What?” said Cyno.

Kaveh’s eyes slid over to Dehya. “You said you won a fight today with only one arm. I just remembered.”

Dehya grinned. “Oh yeah. That was ‘cause I was carrying some precious cargo, really fragile shit. No way was I going to set it down and risk it getting broken. Actually, let me start at the beginning. Why did I even have a five hundred year old lamp…”

She managed to make it feel like the fight was happening right in front of them, drawing Cyno in.

He felt like he was okay at telling stories, but the evidence disagreed. No one reacted to him like they did to Dehya or Kaveh. He wasn’t sure if the deficit on his side was in delivery or content. Or perhaps the two of them had a particular flair for the dramatic. It wasn’t as if Tighnari or Alhaitham told particularly funny stories. Tighnari had a rather dry manner of recounting events, and Alhaitham…

Alhaitham didn’t tell any stories. He was more of a listener, strangely enough. Cyno had thought that Alhaitham didn’t listen at all when they worked together to rescue Lesser Lord Kusanali, because he’d been so set on doing things by himself, in his own way, but recently he’d realized that Alhaitham had near perfect recall. He remembered things from one night at the tavern to the next, and Cyno hadn’t needed to explain the same TCG mechanic twice. Really, it made sense, because as the Akademiya’s Scribe, his entire job was listening.

Alhaitham looked at him, and Cyno realized he had been staring a little. He turned away, focusing back on Dehya.

Later, Alhaitham, Nilou, Kaveh, and Cyno headed back to Sumeru City, since Dehya and Dunyarzad had planned to stay nearby in Gandharva Ville overnight. Cyno had made this exact walk with a relatively inebriated Kaveh many times, though thankfully he’d never had to outright carry him back in the dark. Tonight, Kaveh and Nilou pulled back, discussing architecture again.

Alhaitham was keeping pace with him at the front. Maybe this was a good time to ask. “The principle of reciprocity,” said Cyno.

One side of Alhaitham’s mouth rose; Cyno could just barely make out his face in the light from the half-moon, obscured by the ceiling of trees. “What about it?”

“I wanted to know what you had to say about it.”

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow.

“Well,” said Cyno. “To start with, do you believe in it or not?”

“I do not. But belief is pursuant to definition. How do you define reciprocity?”

“I suppose… reciprocity is the idea that what one has done will be paid back in turn.” As he said it, he realized that what he said was very close to the central philosophy of the matra, who punished those who had done wrong.

“My definition is close but different. I think of the principle of reciprocity as an exacting ethos that enforces rather than extends.”

Cyno had no idea what he was talking about. “Examples?”

Alhaitham blinked twice, his feet stopping momentarily, then he went on. “For example, if you do someone a favor like helping them carry furniture into their home, or returning a lost wallet, you might feel entitled to something in return. Like an equal service, or monetary compensation, or even praise. Taken in reverse, if someone does something for you for no other reason than that they chose to, then under the principle of reciprocity you might feel like you need to give them something back in return.”

Cyno tried to think about this without slowing his pace or stepping in the muddy puddles that had accumulated on the rainforest’s narrow path.

“It isn’t important,” said Alhaitham dismissively, and Cyno realized that he had been silent too long.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested. I’m just thinking,” said Cyno. After a long pause, he said, “Okay. I can understand the latter desire you laid out. The former is less familiar to me.”

Alhaitham said quickly, “But are the two not linked? This is all outside a vocational context, by the way, as long as we’re establishing parameters. When it comes to work, mutually agreeable compensation is fully necessary. Yet when it comes to undefined interactions, I don’t support the idea of weighing deeds against each other, no matter what position you find yourself in.”

“That sounds… strange,” said Cyno. “It sounds like the opposite of what the matra say. Give me a moment again.”

Alhaitham nodded. The moonlight peeked through the forest canopy and was caught by his hair, which shone silvery, distracting Cyno from his thoughts.

They made their way in silence for a while. At one point, Cyno carefully stepped over a fallen log, pointing it out to Alhaitham and gesturing so that Kaveh and Nilou would see it too.

Eventually, Cyno said, “When I accepted my post as a matra, I didn’t realize that it would change my relationships with other scholars. People were afraid to collaborate with me the way we had before, like they thought I was looking to report them. Or they got unusually excited. A couple people even explicitly said they would work with me if I could cut them a break. Once I became the General Mahamatra, I stopped working with scholars, or doing anything outside of matra business. I also didn’t have time, but.”

Alhaitham said nothing, but Cyno guessed that he was listening, so he continued. “What I’m saying is that many people behave as if they believe in the essential rightness of the principle of reciprocity, so it’s real to them. But you’re saying you don’t?”

Despite how long Cyno had thought, Alhaitham took no time at all to respond. “I accept that others may act in accordance with this belief. But I don’t believe it is right, or valid, and I don’t behave as if it is.”

“But why?”

“Because reciprocity is impossible to achieve. If everything is weighted, the scales will always tip. Doesn’t matter if it’s big or small, it’s better not to keep score.”

“But what if a relationship is massively unequal?”

“If someone isn’t satisfied with a relationship, it would be better to identify and address the root issue.”

Cyno said finally, “I think I understand what you mean.”

“Good. And that’s why I expect nothing from anyone,” Alhaitham added.

During the rescue operations in the desert, Alhaitham had annoyed Cyno. Alhaitham had been so self-assured of his own correctness, particularly while criticizing Cyno’s conclusions. It had been even more annoying that Alhaitham turned out to be right: Cyno had acted rashly, both when it came to the fight in Aaru Village and the Akademiya secretly tracking him, and he regretted his actions.

Nowadays, he was fully willing to accept Alhaitham’s conclusions, and he no longer found him annoying. But for some reason he couldn’t accept what Alhaitham had just said.

“What do you mean? You don’t expect anything from anyone?” asked Cyno.

“That’s right.”

Cyno was ready to argue this point. “What about your parents?”

“They’re dead.”

“Oh,” said Cyno, all the argument in him departing. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked—”

“It’s fine,” said Alhaitham, who always looked fine. “It was a long time ago. I know you didn’t know.”

“I’m still sorry to hear it,” said Cyno, then he felt like he should say more. “If you need to talk about it—”

“I don’t need to.”

“If you want to.”

Alhaitham touched the gem on his chest, his eyes drifting towards the sky. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Cyno wanted to say more, but Kaveh and Nilou caught up with them as they reached the final path to the city. Soon, they split ways, with only Kaveh and Alhaitham going the same direction.

Alone, Cyno’s footsteps slowed. When Alhaitham had first come to the tavern, Cyno had thought of him as a polarizing but relatively uncomplicated person to figure out. Yet the more he got to know Alhaitham, the more he realized how little he knew him. Though maybe no one was uncomplicated when you really dug deep.

There was also the moonlight in Alhaitham’s hair, which felt like a different type of complication altogether.

A few weeks later, Cyno went to say hello to Candace after finishing up a job in Aaru Village. She wasn’t at home, so he looked around until he found her chatting with Dehya in the central area near the village chief’s house.

“Greetings,” said Cyno.

“Hey, Cyno. You heading back to Sumeru City soon?” asked Dehya, one hand on her hip. Cyno nodded, and Dehya said, “Then I’ll come, gotta catch up with Dunyarzad like I promised. Haven’t seen her all week. Candace, you coming?”

Candace cast her gaze over the colorful open stalls that formed the small marketplace. There were more booths than the last time Cyno had been here. They’d raised their prices a little, too.

“What were you doing here? Anything dangerous afoot?” Candace asked him.

“No,” said Cyno. “I was tracking another scholar who had committed academic fraud. Lately, they’re all running this direction, because it’s one of the only inhabited places they know about in the desert. But we got the guy, and the matra are taking them back now. He was harmless.”

“See? Easy. I was just telling her she needs to get out more,” said Dehya. “You know, things have settled down.”

Candace sighed. “I know. But old habits. I just feel so protective of the village.”

“It’ll be fine, Rahman’s on duty,” said Dehya.

Cyno said, “Rahman comes here?” He hadn’t seen Rahman since… well, since the victory feast.

“Yep. He’s stationed on the other side of the village right now,” said Dehya.

Cyno felt a familiar guilt. He’d have to say hello the next time he came.

“You’re right, he’s reliable,” said Candace. “Even if it wasn’t him, the village has so many people passing through with all the new trade routes we opened up that there’s always safety in numbers.”

“So let’s go already,” said Dehya, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Candace gave her a look. “All right. I’ll join you.”

They began the trek through the sands. As always, the wind howled, and the sand nearly blinded Cyno as it periodically swept across his face, but the heat felt nice on his shoulders.

Plus, he usually made this journey alone, so he was enjoying the company. Candace and Dehya had just caught a thief that had been plundering mechanical supplies from the village.

“He acted exactly like the snake in that story, didn’t he?” said Dehya. “I wish I could’ve seen his face when you told him he’d better stop or you’d curse him never to return to Aaru Village.”

Candace laughed musically. “I suppose he does bear a resemblance.”

“What snake?” asked Cyno.

Candace and Dehya looked at him expectantly. Dehya said, “You gotta know it, right? We learned it as kids, one of those scary bedtime stories. It’s the one with a weasel, a beetle, and a snake, and they’re all trying to get across the river.”

“Maybe they didn’t tell it in your part of the sands?” Candace offered.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know. I grew up in Sumeru City.” This was sometimes awkward for Cyno, but the opposite way around, because most of the time he was surrounded by people from the rainforest.

Dehya paused for one step. “Huh,” she said. “Your whole life?”

“Everything I remember.”

Candace looked at him thoughtfully.

“You should spend more time in Aaru Village,” said Dehya. “Candace and I hang out there a lot.”

“But you just told Candace she should get out more.”

“Yeah,” said Dehya cheerfully. “Guess I did.”

“Would you like to hear the snake story?” said Candace.

“I would,” said Cyno, and he listened carefully as they recounted it for him.

When they arrived at the tavern, Kaveh, Alhaitham, and Tighnari were in the middle of… something.

“As I’m always telling Alhaitham, throw pillows can be a strong decorative choice,” said Kaveh.

Alhaitham’s chest rose and fell. “In what world is a single pillow the deciding factor of the entire room’s ‘vibe?’”

“I've been trying to figure out if they’re secretly insulting my couch,” Tighnari said as Cyno settled in next to him.

Alhaitham and Kaveh looked up as if they had just realized that other people were there.

“Do you usually discuss interior decor for fun?” Candace asked, planting herself in a chair. She sat back, promptly ordering a coffee from the waiter passing by. Dehya was still standing, looking around for Dunyarzad.

“I wouldn’t say it’s ‘fun,’” said Alhaitham.

“No,” said Cyno, answering the question. “Not usually.”

“Cyno’s still learning about the concept of fun,” Tighnari said.

Cyno told him again, “I know how to have fun.”

“He played TCG with the kids in Aaru Village,” said Candace, crossing her legs. “They said he demolished them.”

“Like I said. I have fun.”

Unexpectedly, Alhaitham gave one of his short laughs.

“Like you’re one to talk,” said Dehya, waving her hand. “Dunyarzad, over here! When did you last take a vacation, Candace?”

“That word is not in my vocabulary.”

As Tighnari chuckled to himself, Dunyarzad came over with a carafe of wine held to her chest, next to her clipboard. “I couldn’t carry extra glasses, but—”

“I’ve got it,” said Dehya, striding away.

Cyno had never seen Dunyarzad wearing one of the Akademiya uniforms before. She stood out because she’d picked the free-flowing style, the least common choice.

“Nice clothes,” said Kaveh. “Does that mean your studies are going well?”

Dunyarzad shook her head. “The way that things are going, I may have to give back the uniform. I’ve explored each of the Darshans by now, but they’re all dead ends.”

Cyno realized that her clothes were also missing a Darshan’s symbol. “No Rtawahist?”

Dunyarzad’s lips pursed. “I asked several of Rtawahist’s senior scholars if there was any possibility that they would have room for my interests. Some of them were nice about it, some… less so. But they all said no.”

“You really asked that?” said Kaveh.

“Yes, why?”

“You agree with me, right?” Kaveh said to the rest of them, gesturing with his glass.

Cyno nodded, and Tighnari jumped in, saying, “Yeah, that’s bold. I don’t think there’s any Darshan that wants to admit that their philosophy doesn’t already encompass everything important about the world.”

“It’s true that some Darshans change over time, like Ksharewar, for instance,” said Kaveh, thinking.

Alhaitham said, “That type of change is usually seen over several generations. You’d be waiting a long time…”

“I can wait,” said Dunyarzad, and Cyno suddenly remembered how long and hard she had fought to stay alive.

“...for a possibility that may not manifest,” finished Alhaitham.

Dunyarzad sighed deeply, setting her clipboard on the table. “I think I’ll give it another month and then quit. Unless anyone has any other ideas.”

Alhaitham and Tighnari spoke at the same time.

“There’s—” said Alhaitham.

“What if you—” said Tighnari.

Both of them stopped.

“Go ahead,” said Alhaitham.

Tighnari cleared his throat. “Okay. It might sound crazy, but what if you tried to create your own course of study? There’s a formal proposal system that goes to the sages for approval. Maybe it’s a long shot, but if it’s the alternative to dropping out.” He looked at Alhaitham. “...Is that what you were going to say, too?”

“I wasn’t going to be so directive,” said Alhaitham. Tighnari shot him a suspicious look. “Not a criticism,” Alhaitham added.

“Oh. Thanks?” said Tighnari.

Alhaitham didn’t respond. His mouth resolutely sealed itself, like he was done talking. He looked at Dunyarzad.

“You can do that?” said Dunyarzad.

“Yes,” said Cyno, catching up. “I wouldn’t have thought of it, but according to the Akademiya’s rules and regulations, any proposal on any administrative matter is allowed. I’m not aware of any cases of unaffiliated research, but… there’s no specific rule against it.”

Dunyarzad flipped to a new page and uncapped her pen, beginning to write.

“What’s going on?” said Dehya. “I grabbed some food while I was up.” She placed a platter of samosas on the table.

“Dunyarzad has a big idea,” said Candace, raising an eyebrow. She had sat back through the discussion, calmly drinking her hot coffee.

“That’s cool,” said Dehya, touching Dunyarzad’s shoulder. “Will you need a new best friend?”

Dunyarzad looked stunned, almost happy. “I might.”

“Huh?” said Kaveh.

“Oh, that’s what we started calling the clipboard,” said Dehya, grinning. “She never lets it out of her sight.”

“A new Darshan,” Dunyarzad said to herself, writing quickly. “A Darshan for the study of mythology, folklore, and literature. Anything with fictional elements…”

“A new Darshan?” Tighnari said, his eyes wide. “I wasn’t thinking of that.”

“Why not?” said Candace.

“I suppose you’re right,” Tighnari said, backing down immediately.

“But… Not that there’s a rule against it. But there have always been six Darshans,” said Cyno.

“Aaru Village used to be a place that no one knew about, let alone went out of their way to visit,” said Candace. “Now, we’re the second center of commerce in the desert.”

She sounded entirely neutral. Cyno wondered how she really felt; as the person responsible for opening up the trade routes, perhaps she was proud of her accomplishments. But it could just as easily have been the case that she felt melancholy for the changes happening beyond her control. Perhaps he would ask her the next time he was in Aaru Village.

“Yeah, things change everywhere,” said Dehya. “They just have to.”

Cyno wasn’t sure if a new Darshan was more or less unlikely than one of the existing Darshans expanding to accommodate new subjects… but he liked to see Dunyarzad scribbling like this. She deserved to be a scholar, one way or another.

“Oh,” said Kaveh. “That reminds me. We never finished our discussion earlier, but my point was,” and he pointed at Alhaitham, “How are you going to keep the place clean when I’m gone?"

Alhaitham shrugged.

“You’d better dust the paintings!”

Alhaitham made an even smaller shrug, and Kaveh’s mouth fell open with outrage.

“Where are you going?” asked Tighnari.

Kaveh flapped his hand. “I was staffed on a new project in the desert.”

“Not the same one as last time? What happened to the doorknobs?”

“No, I—uh—that one was terminated early last month. We couldn’t come to an agreement on certain decisions.”

“He quit,” said Alhaitham.

Kaveh rolled his eyes. “Yes, that’s technically true. But now, finally, I have work! I may be away for a while again.”

Cyno was used to Kaveh coming and going like this, but he wondered how Alhaitham felt, as his roommate.

“In that case, let me know if you need a guide,” said Dehya. “I’m still traveling all over Sumeru every week.”

“I would love that! But, err, I don’t think that I could really afford to… pay you.” Kaveh’s voice trailed off.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just take you as far as I’m going, and you can find your own way after that.”

Kaveh chewed his lip. “But perhaps there is something I could do in lieu of payment?”

“Hey now, you’re going to offend me if we keep talking about payment between friends,” said Dehya lightly.

Kaveh opened and closed his mouth. He quickly finished his drink then stood up. “I'll procure more wine.”

“Kaveh has a complex around accepting ‘unearned’ help from anyone,” said Alhaitham. “Which is likely why he puts himself in such positions regularly.”

“I do not!” Kaveh said as he left.

“Which aspect are you denying?”

Kaveh was either out of earshot or choosing not to respond.

Cyno was thinking about the principle of reciprocity: why Alhaitham might have conceptualized it, and why he had such a strong stance, and for whose benefit. He was sure that if he asked Alhaitham about it, he'd claim he didn't know what Cyno was talking about.