“If you do it right, Falynn, there won’t be blood,” Nuri said. A peculiar smile flashed and disappeared across his face and Dirva’s face at the exact same time. No one else was amused. Abira let out wordless noise, a primal thing of loss and frustration, and went after her father. Amran and Dirva’s mother drifted to the back of the room. The pair of them stood together, arms crossed, eyes watchful and wary. I alone sat on my side of the table.

Falynn dropped his face into his hands. “No.”

Dirva took Falynn by the elbow and pulled him aside. They spoke in low whispers, but the room was small, and I couldn’t help but hear what was said.

“He wants to die, Fal,” Dirva said. “Letting nature choke the life from him in the dead of night when none of us are there, that would be better?”

“You haven’t been here for years,” Falynn spat back.

“This is not about me.”

“No, it isn’t. It never has been. You think you can waltz in here, you think you still know anything when you’ve been gone so long? You don’t!”

Dirva took a breath. “He wants this. He raised us.”

“You sure it’s not you who wants this?” Falynn said. “Moment he’s gone cold you’ll be gone again.” In the back of the room, Amran let out a low whistle. Dirva’s mother smacked Amran’s shoulder and told Falynn to stop being an ass.

“I would do it,” Dirva said, “but I know nothing about medicine. You were taught all of Semadran medicine; you must have been taught this.”

“Just because I was taught something don’t mean I’ll use it. Pa sure as hell taught you loyalty, and it don’t seem to me that ever stuck.”

“This is not about me!”

“All I know is you’re the only one who’s not been here, and you’re the only one saying this is the way it should happen.”

Dirva was as angry as I have ever seen him, before or since. He opened his mouth to respond, but Nuri reached back and took his hand. “Falynn,” Nuri said, “I am saying this is the way it should happen, too.”

“His life, his choice,” Dirva’s mother said from the back of the room.

Falynn’s face swung around to her. “What?”

“You heard me. You do it, Fal, or I will.” Her voice was iron; her voice had within it a deep and fiery protectiveness for this old man who was her husband’s husband. “Go tell your pa this is what’s happening. Tell him to make his peace with it. Nuri, let’s you and I have a chat about logistics, yeah?”

Nuri smiled. “Oh, Switch,” he said, “I do so love your pragmatism.”