In Montavera nobody asks your sign. They ask your breath — the breath of the month you were filed under, which is yours for life. The readings are kept by Gornola, who trained at Tongath and gives them at her window: a record, she will tell you, not a prediction. The suns she calls the boys of the neighborhood. The moon is her beloved impossible friend. You, for the duration of the reading, are her unruly grandchild.
First Study · The Boys of the Neighborhood
Montavera's sky holds more suns than yours, and never none. By the Index's 56-day count, the number standing over the city changes from day to day — and the number is the day's character, because each count sets the suns' movement, and the movement sets what kind of day it is permitted to be.
| Suns | Movement | What stands in the sky |
|---|---|---|
| −1 | Rest | A negative sun — shadows over shadows. Nothing rises, and the city, wisely, holds still. |
| 1 | Drawing | The tiny red sun, alone. A day for taking in: breath drawn, doors opened inward. |
| 2 | Holding | The red sun and the common sun together. A day for keeping what you have, exactly as you have it. |
| 3 | Giving | Solastron, the angry third sun, joins the other two. A day for giving out — generously, and not quietly. |
Gornola's sun-reading comes in two pieces, and the difference between them is the whole discipline. First, the Trance — filed in violet — which is prophecy, and always true, and often cryptic. Second, the Interpretation — filed in amber — which is her trained guess at what the trance means for your day. The Interpretation carries a filed accuracy of one in three, and she prints that beneath it herself, every time. Which third you are in is, as she says, your affair.
Second Study · The Beloved Impossible Friend
The moon is a she, and her mood swings like weather. The reading for any day is made from the night before it — so what she was last night is what the city wakes to. Her moods are fourteen, and each one moves the district clerks to prepare the city differently for every breath in it:
| Her mood | The clerks prepare | Her mood | The clerks prepare |
|---|---|---|---|
| Mad | Noise and complaints | Loyal | Oaths and memberships |
| Glad | Festivity permits | Vengeful | Debts and collection |
| Sad | Mourning and closures | Lustful | Distance and proximity |
| Spontaneous | Schedules | Romantic | Doors and greetings |
| Jealous | Who may speak to whom | Hopeful | Petitions |
| Pessimist | Warnings and insurance | Impulsive | Purchases and contracts |
| Excited | Queues and speed | Grateful | Thanks and settlements |
Her phase rules how hard the day's changes bind. She is new on the 4th and full on the 18th, always on Moonsdays. New, the changes are only advice — she says please. Waxing, they hold firmer. Full, they are strictly enforced. Waning, they are already easing. The comedy of it, the Bureau notes, is never her. It is the city, bracing.
The Reading
Two forms, as the Bureau keeps them. The first files your breath from the day you were born and reads today's sky against it. The second is the Listening, asked fresh each day and never stored. Today in Montavera:
File your breath. Your breath is the month you were filed under; the Bureau asks your birthday and converts it.
Your breath
The Trance · Violet
The Interpretation · Amber
Last Night — The Moon
What the Clerks Changed for Your Breath
Your Wrinkle
The Listening — the Ritual of Aperture. Two questions, asked fresh, answered honestly, never stored.
File your breath at SKY-1 first. The Listening asks its questions of a filed breath, and of no one else.
Her Line for You
Coming Soon: Factions — Expandable Card Game