Diogenes Gravemind's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Diogenes took his step and the mist did not close behind Mary Contrary the way it should have. Something stayed. He heard the three mouths again, closer than before, and this time they were not breathing around her ankles. They were breathing around his. The serpent had let the girl walk on and turned back for him. He felt one head lift near his knee. He felt another test the hem of his coat. The third pressed cold against the hand that held the lamp. "Judge yourself," a voice said, and it was not one voice. It came out of three throats at once, layered like water over water. "You weighed her. Now stand on the scale." Diogenes did not move. He had spent a life asking other people to be honest. He had never turned the lamp toward his own face. He thought about lying. He thought about saying he walked the Old Mist out of duty, or mercy, or love of the dead. None of that was true. He wet his mouth. "I carry the lamp because I want it to go out," he said. "I want to stop. I told myself I was looking for an honest man so others could be seen. That was half of it. The other half was that I wanted rest, and I dressed the wanting up as service so I could keep my pride." The heads went still. "I judged the girl quick," he said, "because I hoped she was the one and I could put the lamp down tonight. She wasn't, and I sent her off with her burden so I wouldn't have to sit with mine. That was cheap of me. Now you're here. Do what you do." The serpent did not drag him down. One head slid off his hand. Another uncoiled from his ankle. The third stayed a moment longer, tasting the air near his throat, then withdrew. The voice came once more, quieter. "You answered. Walk." The weight left him. The mist moved again. Diogenes lifted the lamp and felt the handle shake in his grip, which had not happened in a hundred years. The flame burned on. He had told the truth about himself and the light had not gone out for him either. So it was not only honesty the lamp wanted, and it was not only one honest mortal. It wanted something he had not yet named. He stood in the road and listened for the girl's footsteps ahead of him. He could still hear them, faint, going forward. He followed. He had been spared to keep looking, and now he knew the looking would cost him more than walking. It would cost him every comfortable story he had told himself about why he walked at all.