Fable 5

Kaveh stares at the sliver of exposed stomach with the expression of a man forcibly redirecting his own thoughts, then clears his throat and gestures broadly at the sky, as if the heat is a personal insult from the Akademiya.

"That's an entire nation away, Kris. Though—" he pauses, treacherously tempted, "the breeze off Cider Lake is supposed to be magnificent this time of year. Architecturally speaking, the way the city catches the wind currents—"

"He's already planning the itinerary," Alhaitham says flatly. He steps half a pace to the side, deliberately casting his shadow over Kris to cut the worst of the sun. "For the record, the argument found us. Kaveh insisted on inspecting a market stall's awning joinery uninvited. The merchant objected, and Kaveh spent the next ten minutes objecting to that objection."

"The joinery was a safety hazard! One strong wind and the entire thing collapses onto his produce— onto customers, Alhaitham!"

"And yet the awning stands, and we are the ones melting in the street." Alhaitham's gaze returns to Kris, and his tone eases by a degree, hinting at warmth. "There's a shaded terrace two streets over with iced tea and cushions where Kaveh can lose the argument in comfort."

"I will do no such thing— you insufferable—" Kaveh catches himself, exhales dramatically, and turns to Kris with the full radiance of a man seeking an ally. "Fine. You decide. Terrace, or home? And you're settling the awning matter on the way, I don't care what he says."

"Boing— did he just—" Kaveh whips around to Alhaitham, both scandalized and delighted.

"Don't dignify it," Alhaitham says, already matching Kris's pace with his longer stride. 『He accepted my proposal and set terms in under ten seconds. More efficient than Kaveh has managed in fifteen years.』

Kaveh hurries after them, cape swishing, mentally composing his opening argument. 『If the joinery was actually dangerous. It mostly was. The lap joint was— well, it was ugly AND structurally questionable, those aren't mutually exclusive—』 He is preoccupied by a flaw in Kris's terms: he cannot fully separate his aesthetic outrage from his engineering assessment, and Kris will absolutely notice.

The terrace opens off the street under a canopy of trained vines, stone stained dark where the misters reach. A chalkboard leans by the entry arch.

☙ PUSPA TERRACE ☙

Iced Zaytun Tea ..... 320 Mora

Chilled Kalpalata Cordial ..... 450 Mora

Minty Fruit Water ..... 280 Mora

Cushioned seating — first come, first served

Parties of 4+ turned away after 5 o'clock. No exceptions. Yes, this means you, Akademiya reading circles.

Three cushioned corner spots remain. Alhaitham claims the best one with the shameless economy of a man who reads terrain, then gestures Kris toward the deepest shade beside him.

"Sit. Order whatever you want: the loser of the awning verdict pays regardless."

"Agreed," Kaveh says, dropping onto the cushion opposite and leaning in, red eyes bright. "Now, Kris. Picture a lap joint, load-bearing, cut with a dull chisel, on the windward side of the street—"

"Present the facts, not a horror story."

"I AM presenting— fine. Fine!" Kaveh spreads his ink-smudged hands flat on the table, steadying his breath. "Kris. Honest question, before I say another word. Do you know anything about joinery, or am I about to give you a lesson you'll actually find useful over iced tea?"

Kaveh opens his mouth to begin the lecture, then derails.

"They— wait. They either notice or don't? What determines it? Is it a temperament thing, or—"

"Focus," Alhaitham says, though his eyes flick to the pair of soft black ears atop Kris's head with scientific interest. 『Noted for later. Empirically testable.』

"Right. Right! Joinery." Kaveh sweeps aside the little dish of sugar cubes to clear a stage, and Mehrak hums up beside the table, projecting a faint gold wireframe of two crossed beams. "Simplest version: joinery is how two pieces of wood hold each other without giving up. A lap joint— look— you cut half the thickness out of each beam so they overlap flush. If done correctly, they share the load like clasped hands. If they're sloppy," he flicks his wrist and the hologram's notch turns ragged, splintered, "you've created a structural weakness. Every gust of wind pries that gap wider. The awning might hold for now, but it will eventually collapse, likely while someone is standing right beneath it."

"And there's the horror story." Alhaitham sets down his glass. "Counterpoint: that awning has stood for three years, through two storm seasons. The cuts are ugly, but the merchant braced it with a secondary post last spring. Kaveh saw the chisel work and stopped looking."

"I did not stop— the post is off-center, it's not even taking half the—" Kaveh falters, a beat too long, and his fingers find the feather ornament at his temple. 『It IS taking some of the load. Curse him. But the joint is still hideous— actually, hideous isn't the argument. Kris said dangerous or ugly. Which is it?』

Alhaitham notices the hesitation and turns to Kris with a lazy tilt of his head. "You have the lesson and the rebuttal. Is there anything else you need to know before you decide?"