"They used to call this city Sol Fluviatus back before I destroyed it." Domi leaned over the half-collapsed basilica wall and nodded below him at the river flowing to the sea. High above, the crimson sun cast its shimmering reflection down into the water. White night-side blossoms and spiraling spore towers crowded the icy riverbanks, stained red in the sunlight. People had once rowed riverboats up and down the channels of this waterfront city, but not any more. "The old name meant Sun Soaked in a River, but now people call this place Sal Fatilegus. The Stream Gathering Death."

His little brother, Ficus, pointed several pale-blue tendrils at the shrine nestled in the fallen basilica's shadow. "Because they honor their dead here?" the young clivia asked, drifting like an overgrown dandelion puff over the lip of the wall. His words thrummed like lute strings given voice as his vibrating filaments formed audible-speech. He'd been practicing the new trick very hard the past two months but still didn't sound quite human. "Daedalus called this place a pilgrimage site."

"I wish it were only that." Domi swallowed hard. "But no. When I dropped the Trellis, the worldholders could only protect the capital regions. One million people lived here, once. Many died in the Descent. The survivors sent the bodies on floating biers to burn at sea. People say the funeral pyres filled the river for weeks. That's why they call the city Sal Fatilegus."

It's not your fault, Ficus said, switching to heat-speech the way he often did when upset. The words flowed over Domi in warm, pulsing waves, accompanied by a sound like an irregular heartbeat. Daedalus says you didn't know that would happen. You didn't mean to hurt anyone.

"Ignorance isn't the same as innocence, Ficus," Domi said, studying his blue hands in his lap. "And our intentions don't always match our impact." He sighed as his half-brother emanated lukewarm confusion. "You'll understand when you're older."

I'm older now. Much older than you. Ancient, in human years.

"Oh, please," Domi said, rolling his eyes even as he pulsed grateful relief toward the clivia for the change of subject. "I'm almost sixteen. You're not even a year old."

That's more grown up than you, among my kind.

"Physically, maybe. But you're still a kid." Domi stretched, then hopped down from the crumbling wall, boots crunching in snow, as he spotted movement atop the shrine. "The delivery's here. Let's go."

Ficus turned to look, then threw his filaments wide in every direction. Dam!

Domi squinted at the two approaching clivias. He still had a hard time telling most of the First People apart, as their lack of faces made them hard for human eyes to distinguish. Still, he thought he recognized the dappled burgundy and swirling ruby heat waves pouring from the white clivia woman. He didn't know the clivia man flying with She Loves the Snow, however.

He hoped.

Best to play it like he recognized them both. "Thanks for bringing all of this," he said as Ficus's dam landed in the courtyard with several crates tangled in her white tendrils.

Above her, the man hovered, the dark-blue filaments of his underbelly sweeping boulder-sized chunks of sooty rubble aside like leaves. When he cleared a spot, both clivias unloaded their burdens.

Domi hurried past crates of clivia-fiber blankets and pried one of the barrels open. "Great, you brought them."

He pulled out one of the scrolls, unrolling it to glance at the maps marking all of the regional shelters. The last time he and Daedalus had made their pilgrimage here, far too many people had lamented about not knowing where to go for food and shelter as supplies continued to dwindle.

He reached for a slender booklet of twine-bound paper and grinned. "Is this--"

"The recipe books," She Loves the Snow said, her deep, resonant words like a cello.

He did his best to radiate warm gratitude. "Docte will be so happy." The city shelter's head cook struggled sometimes to make the odd-tasting plants spreading across the planet palatable. Domi hefted the barrel and smiled at She Loves the Snow. "Are you two staying for dinner?"

Only if you are not ready to travel yet, the clivia man said.

Ficus radiated discomfort. About that, Grandsire...

Domi blushed. Ficus's grandsire. He Dreams of Sunlight. Domi really needed to spend more time with the ancient clivia. The man loved to brag about his human "grandpups" as much as about Ficus and Lilio, and yet Domi barely knew him.

He Dreams of Sunlight pointed several crystal-blue filaments at Ficus, then Domi. Again?

Domi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. He's... stubborn."

His teacher is stubborn, and yet the man is home where he belongs, spending time with his pup. Daedalus has two, and yet insists on languishing here?

Domi squirmed. He really didn't want to try defending his twin. How could he, anyway? Dae's weird reluctance to go home to his three-month-old daughters made no sense. "He says he wants to stay another couple of days more."

"The elections approach," She Loves the Snow said, the courtyard rippling with the rosy-copper heat of her disapproval. "Soon, we will choose our new government. Does he not wish to be there with the Rex when the world decides?"

Domi chuckled. "The Rex would probably just as happily keep us both out here until after the election." Ausus and Valens, too. Several factions in the capital were threatening violence against Merula's family if the election didn't go their way. He shrugged. "But I'll see if I can get Dae to be reasonable."

Getting his brother to see sense was easier said than done, however. As soon as Domi stepped past the shrine and into the scaffolded basilica, Daedalus scowled. "I heard you, you know. It is not unreasonable of me to wish to stay and finish our work here."

Ficus pulsed sympathy Domi's way and followed the two adult clivias to the storage room. Inside, Sidus murmured his greetings.

Domi sighed, slumping down next to his twin beside a pallet where a moaning old man lay. Countless other people rested or sat quietly talking on the shelter's cracked marble floor, tended by other helpers. Domi plucked the cooling cloth from Daedalus's hand and dabbed at the feverish patient's brow.

Every week, more sick, freezing, or starving un-Blended people ended up here or other shelters in desperate need. Thank the Eternal Radiance they'd brought Aix and Lilio with them on this trip; the pair were hard at work helping people Blend. But unfortunately, not all were willing.

"I want to do as much as I can, too," Domi said. "All of this is my fault." He swallowed as he bathed the elderly man's hot face. All week, Domi had tried to persuade him to accept Lilio's spores. Exposure to Trellis materials last year had led to this wasting sickness, but Blending would cure him. Yet he insisted on dying "fully human", even if it meant that death would come soon. Domi sighed. "But the work never ends. It'll still be waiting for us when we come back."

Daedalus's sapphire-blue face, so like Domi's own, twisted in a frustrated scowl. "Will he?" He jerked his chin at the man. "If we go home now, it will be two months before our next pilgrimage out here. These people need help now."

"There are people at home who need you, too."

Daedalus looked away. "They do not need me."

Domi sighed. Something weird was going on in his twin's head. He could not even begin to untangle what it was. "They do. They're your daughters, Dae. Your betrothed. Of course they need you." He studied Daedalus's face as his brother avoided his eyes. "Don't you and Edera like each other any more?"

"Of course we do," Daedalus said. "And I will go home. I just want to stay here a little longer."

Irritation surged in Domi. How could Daedalus be so stubborn? "Well, I don't. And Sidus doesn't either. And I bet if I ask Aix what he thinks of what happened last night--"

Daedalus glared. "Domi, don't."

He shook his head. "This isn't healthy, you know. Aix said you can only come with me on these pilgrimages if you're doing well. But you're not, are you? You're having the nightmares again, and--"

"Domi!"

He stood up. "I'm right, and you know it." He crossed his arms. "I'm telling Aix about the dreams. And the panic attack. He'll decide whether you can stay." He met his furious twin's eyes and softened. "You'll thank me later. This is the best thing. For you. For the babies."

Daedalus turned stiffly back to the old man. "Why don't you worry about yourself, and leave me to worry about me?"

Domi frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Daedalus's eyes narrowed at him. "It was your idea to come out here. You said that we needed to help after what we did, and I agreed. But I am not one of your charity projects, Domi."

"Well, you need to be someone's project," he grumbled.

Daedalus's blue hands clenched on the cloth. Then he turned back to the old man. "Do whatever you wish, Brother," he said, tone as icy as the river outside. "You always do."

It was the last thing Daedalus said to Domi before giving him the silent treatment for the entire four-day journey back to the capital.