Travelers to Ēnnuh would do well to be aware of its odd seasons. Winter lasts roughly from December to March, as one might expect, but Spring comes not only with warmer weather but with a near-complete stillness of weather systems. Locals often comment that the wind does not return until after the summer solstice…
—Āman of Esse-ré, Guidebook to the Fourteen Rivers
Elīya paces the room and tells herself, repeatedly, not to punch the wall. She has many supporting arguments for this. One, the wall belongs to Trillium Hall, and she signed a contract not to do things like property damage, and she’s a woman of her word. Two, she actually likes the place, so that’s another reason to treat it well. Three, she’d probably get fined, and who in God’s names wants that? Four, she’s punched a wall before, and she’d really rather not break her hand again.
Her hair tangles itself progressively more behind her. She grits her teeth, telling herself that the sound of her shoes on the stone floor is close enough to violence. Which she lately always has an impulse for after her classes. Not that she’s violent exactly. At least not to people. That would be wrong.
Hannuša’s leaning back on her own bed with an amused smile. Her eyes flicker between watching Elīya and painting her fingernails, claw-like as all demons’ are.
Elīya growls under her breath, then says to Hannuša, “Here I am, putting way more thought into the morality of actual actions—like punching a wall or a person, neither of which I’m going to do, I’ll have you know—than my actual flaming ethics professor does. I can hear her say it now—‘Applied ethics? Why, this is a philosophy class! We only think here.’” At that Elīya lets out another, louder, growl. “What in the eyes of God does she think the point of ethics even is?” She looks to Hannuša directly, as if she can answer.
“Do you think that because I worship God, I’ll somehow know?” Hannuša asks in a low, teasing tone.
“Nah.” Elīya’s eyes light up with an idea. “But, as a member of the math program, you could probably draw theorems around her until she relents and decides to, I don’t know, start treating people with kindness or honesty or humility or whatever she’s about in real life.”
“That’s not how math works.”
“You’re right, she hasn’t really done enough to me to provoke such a vicious attack. And as you implicitly suggest, surely math itself would understand when it’s being used for ill ends, and would backfire against us.”
Hannuša chuckles.
Elīya lets out an exaggerated sigh. “It’s just so annoying. I don’t understand how these people are claiming to teach me ethics, if everything’s always going to be theoretical—more theoretical, even, then my suggestion to attack them with math.”
“Well, it was a very serious suggestion.”
“I hope you’ll keep it in mind, then, in case the situation gets worse and it becomes justified. Then, if you’re still willing to help, I can rain true vengeance down upon my enemies. Then again, if it is purely a vengeful act, it might be a bad idea to get you involved. You know, ethically.”
“I can see why this is less theoretical than whatever happened in class.”
Elīya nods to herself. “Oh, and actually, given that you’re a demon, that might be really bad. Could reflect badly on your people if you start going on a vengeance mission, and one for someone else, no less, so we don’t want that.”
“Then again, hampering me to make or not make decisions purely based on the way people might pity me and assume me to have mental problems when they see this”—Hannuša gestures at her yellow eyes, the small black horns on her head—“is itself, I would think, ethically questionable.”
Elīya blinks. “Nice counterargument.”
“Two can play at this game.”
“But not in my actual classes,” Elīya says, and walks over to and slumps down on her own bed.
A moment passes; Elīya takes in the still-too-bright light filtering in through the window. She looks for blank wall space and can’t find it; Hannuša’s posted some bright geometrical drawing or another on every corner. But no matter what part of the room she looks at, she’s not any less angry. Maybe she should just flop down on her bed…?
“You want to continue ranting?” Hannuša suggests. “It looks like you’re still upset, and it’s not like you’re bothering me.”
Elīya smiles. “Now this is why I like you.”
“That’s a lie.” Elīya winces; Hannuša chuckles. “You like me for lots of reasons. Or so you’ve said.”
“And none of those reasons were lies, don’t worry,” Elīya says quickly, the words running into each other. “Anyway, that’s how Moral Systems is going, but History of Philosophy is still on the Covenant.”
Hannuša whistles. “Didn’t you say they were finally supposed to leave it this week?”
“Nope, we’re behind. Mostly because some people keep needing review on every little thing, like ‘What do the Holy think about the Covenant, again?’ and ‘What do the demons want to happen come Resurrection?’”
Hannuša grimaces.
“Yeah, it’s pretty powerful overgeneralization. This from the philosophy program, where people are supposed to think.”
Hannuša finishes her last nail. “I’m glad I’m in math.”
“Hmm, maybe next time I’ll answer that one: what the demons want after Resurrection is for people to stop assuming they all want the same thing. Or, even better: what the demons want after Resurrection is for you to shut up.”
“I would say we want that before Resurrection too.”
“Most of these people probably haven’t even met a demon anyway,” Elīya says.
“Well, I hadn’t met a non-demon until I was ten, so I sympathize.” Hannuša pauses. “Though I wasn’t that stupid even then. Probably.”
“If it is stupidity, it’s probably wrong to hate them for it—it’s not their fault they are, and all that. Then again, that’s assuming stupidity is ingrained, and it does seem an awful lot like at least most kinds are actually chosen.”
“I can give you some sketches to throw at them, if the math attack option might work here too.”
“Hm,” Elīya says, “I’ll consider it.”
“You should probably tell me in advance, though, so I can collect the ones I don’t care if I never see again.”
“Will do.” Elīya sighs; this conversation hasn’t exactly solved anything.
Then again, nothing seems to these days.
Nothing at all has changed or even surprised her in her life, not since Tamar left.