by Avi Silver
No wait, not the arena, the village, not the—
“Ahn? Hey, Ahnschen?” Sohmeng’s voice cut through the memory.
Pressure released suddenly from Ahn’s chest; he had been holding his breath. At some point he had let go of the earpiece and reached instead for the scar that crossed his heart. He was clutching it so hard his nails had dug in.
He smiled a little. An old habit. “Sorry,” he said.
“For what?” She was looking at him in a way he couldn’t understand, her face holding all of the discomfort he couldn’t wear for himself. Slowly she took his hand, pulling it away from his chest. He let her, suddenly overcome with the fear of what would happen when she let go.
“I’m not very good at this,” he murmured, a tight laugh escaping him.
“At what?”
“Talking,” he said, focusing on the way she held his hand down by his leg. It almost seemed protective. “Explaining myself. Understanding others. Expanding the Empire.”
Sohmeng snorted at that, giving him another one of those pointy elbow jabs. “Look, I get that this might be complicated for you. But I’m glad you suck at conquest, Ahn.”
The elbow jab turned into half a hug, her arm sympathetic on his back. He leaned into her, feeling the air return to his lungs even as a frightening realization spread through him: he was glad, too. Everything he had worked for, everything he had lost—all to be struck with the knowledge of just how little he wanted it. He had no idea where that left him, what it meant for his future—for Schenn’s future.
“Still with me, Ahnschen?”
He apologized once more, biting back a wince when he realized it had come out in Qiao Sidhur.
“It’s okay,” Sohmeng said. “Like, it makes sense to be scared.”
“Scared?”
“Uh, yeah?” She laughed a little. “The Grand Ones are pretty intimidating, if you didn’t notice? I’d be losing my mind if I was in your position right now.”
Ahn had been afraid in his life. Of course he had. He had just never been given permission to express it openly. No fear, no doubt. Just acceptance, or else private adaptation. To admit to this shortcoming was a highly dangerous act, especially in the hands of someone positioned as an enemy—but he found it felt more like confessing something to a friend. This time, his longing for intimacy outweighed his survival instinct.
“I am scared,” he said. And somehow, in the act of speaking his fear aloud, he found it weighed less heavy on his heart.
“Me too, Ahn.” Sohmeng returned to scrubbing his clothing, her brow furrowed in thought. “Look, I don’t like what I’ve learned about how Qiao Sidh has behaved in Eiji. I’m disappointed, and I’m confused, and it doesn’t make sense given the kind of person you are. And looking at your face right now, I don’t think you get it either. I think you made a mistake, and I think you know you made a mistake, and I think both you and Eiji deserve to see the mistake fixed.” She pulled his shirt from the tub, looking it over for lingering stains. “It doesn’t help anyone if they just—just exile you for it. It doesn’t change anything.”
“And if they decide to kill me?” Ahn asked softly. It was a reality worth considering.
“I won’t let that happen,” Sohmeng said, and the look on her face dared anyone to get in her way. “I refuse. Can you trust that, Ahn?”
“I—” The answer was no. Of course it was no. It should have been no. There was no reason for him to believe Sohmeng would keep him safe, but his want overrode his doubt, and the answer he gave was: “Yes. I will trust you.”
The flicker of surprise on Sohmeng’s face immediately alerted him to the language discrepancy. His cheeks flushed, but all she did was nudge him with her elbow again as she replied, “Then I’ll have to trust you, too.”
Out in Eiji with the family of sãoni, Sohmeng had often found herself longing for the days of human language. When Mama got stubborn about her sense of direction, or when Green Bites kept play-stalking her through the woods, or when the hatchlings got into everything, she would moan to Hei about how much easier it would be if they could just talk to each other. Not in bites or growls, but in actual words. Words made sense! she had said. They simplified things, made communication run smoothly.
Three hours into meeting with the Grand Ones, she was beginning to reconsider.
Knowing that Nona Fahang had already tried and failed to help Ateng once before definitely made Sohmeng’s request more complicated, but she refused to be disheartened. All she had to do was offer the Grand Ones a fresh perspective, help them understand the urgency of the situation. With that knowledge, how couldn’t they help her?
In many ways, Nona Fahang’s governmental system was similar to that of Ateng: the Grand Ones made the decisions, while the leaders of the community carried them out. Unlike Ateng, their decisions weren’t made in private beneath the holy light of Chehangma’s Gate. No, the people of Nona Fahang had their life-changing consultations right out in the square, where anyone could join in as an audience member. Where Ateng favoured ritual and sacred spaces, Nona Fahang’s relationship to the Grand Ones was nearly casual.
A Sohmeng of the past would have loved the idea of such transparency—especially because it would have knocked her brother down a couple self-important pegs. But now, surrounded by twenty-five elderly strangers with trust issues, the last thing she wanted was even more judgmental eyes on her. Her very reasonable appeals suddenly sounded silly, her confidence slowly draining with each whisper she couldn’t understand.
It didn’t help that Grandmother Dongi was one tough nut to crack.
“And once more, your request for aid is unfeasible,” the old woman said, drumming her fingers on her walking stick. Her exasperation was coming through loud and clear in Tonão’s translation. “We simply cannot spare anyone for such a lengthy and complicated expedition.”
“I don’t think it would take that many people,” Sohmeng insisted. “It’s not quantity, just—capability! A few people who know Eiji.”
“Our scouts, traders, warriors—they are already at their limit keeping watch for the invaders, gathering resources in case of an attack. I cannot risk Nona Fahang’s security for a venture that is likely to fail.”
Sohmeng grit her teeth, choosing to ignore that last statement. “I know the timing is risky. It might take a few phases, but when we pull it off, you’ll also have an ally in Ateng! We could support each other.”
Sohmeng had learned a new word this morning: Gãepongwei, the name that was now being used to identify the connection between the many hmun of Eiji. When the Qiao Sidhur had asked the first hmun for the name of their ‘nation’, the concept had made little sense. The varying hmun had always lived individually, spread across Eiji, but they saw each other as distant relatives. Now, Nona Fahang and the other hmun in the network had apparently taken to using Gãepongwei, finding new closeness in the arrival of a common threat. “If things are really so dangerous right now, won’t we be stronger together?”
From the other side of the circle, Nona Fahang’s Grandmother Mi raised a hand. Sohmeng’s heart tugged as she looked at the woman’s tattooed cheeks. What she would do to see that mischievous smile right now, to know that someone had her back.
“Speak, Grandmother Mi,” granted Grandmother Dongi. This was another difference between Ateng and Nona Fahang: instead of passing decisions through council-wide votes, the final word in this hmun belonged to whoever was the representative for the current ruling phase. Other Grand Ones could offer opinions and ideas, but their power was limited by the shape of the moons.
“Should we find a way to Ateng without trouble, there is still one matter you haven’t covered,” she said, tilting her head curiously. “How do you plan on fixing the Sky Bridge? Does Ateng have the capacity to help us help them? What part could they play in this aid?”
Sohmeng felt herself go red as the attending villagers ogled her, turning this ordeal into a miserable spectacle. “That... I, I mean...” She tra
iled off, uncertain of what to say. She had sort of been hoping that the leaders of Nona Fahang would be offering up ideas of their own by now. “Look, there’s a lot of questions we all want answered—”
There it was: the old, familiar collective sigh of a group of people who didn’t think she had any idea what she was doing. Muttering about all the ways this wasn’t a good use of their time. It had been bad in Ateng, when she had been consistently denied opportunities based on her tengmun kar status, but this time it felt doubly unfair. She had been living as an adult for months now, doing her best to be a better community member. It stung to be dismissed all over again.
Maybe this time they were right, and she was in over her head. But wasn’t that a good reason to collaborate instead of rub it in her face?
Grandmother Dongi knocked her walking stick against the platform, hushing the council and those listening in. “Sohmeng Par, it is clear that you are a very bright and strong-willed girl, and we have sympathy for your cause. Trust me when I say this isn’t malicious, but we simply cannot extend ourselves to Ateng right now. Our walls keep back sãoni and hãokar and all sorts of predators—but they will do nothing against the kind of fire your companion wields. That is our first priority right now.”
Sohmeng’s shoulders dropped as she heard the finality in the woman’s voice. She couldn’t argue with that, but she also couldn’t help but feel like they were holding Ahn’s existence against her. “I thought all the hmun were supposed to work together.”
“And we do,” said Grandmother Dongi firmly. “Look around and meet refugees from Hosaisi, from Kongkempei. They will tell you of our shared desire for collaboration. Now, is there anything else you have to s—”
Something stirred the Grand Ones’ audience. A young teenager ran up to the platform, out of breath, looking ready to apologize or else hit the ground.
“Excuse me,” they said, stumbling to a stop beside Sohmeng. Tonão went to them as quickly as his leg allowed, ready to assist in translation. “I, there’s—”
“Breathe, young Hiun,” said Grandmother Dongi. “What do you need us for?”
“Not—not you, actually,” they mumbled, looking at Sohmeng. “We need her, Tonão’s girl, at the north wall.”
“And why is that?” asked Dongi.
The messenger had gone pale, as though they didn’t fully believe what they were saying. “There’s a visitor asking, well sort of shouting, for her by name. And they—burning godseye, I thought Auntie Polha was just teasing, but they’re riding a são—”
Before the word was out of their mouth, Sohmeng had broken into a run toward the wall. She could hear her father shouting behind her, but she wasn’t about to waste any time explaining. The meeting had gone far longer than she expected—she’d been so focused on the Grand Ones that she’d completely lost track of time. The sãoni would have woken hours ago.
After some arguing with the guards, she managed to convince someone to guide her through the trees. She could hear Hei’s voice, loud and insistent and stubborn as anything.
“I don’t want to speak to you,” they were yelling at the people above in Atengpa. This was only made more intimidating by the sãoni growling right alongside them. “I’m looking for Sohmeng. Bring me Sohmeng now, and also please stop talking.”
When she saw the exit, Sohmeng squeezed past her guide, calling out Hei’s name in Sãonipa, three clicks and a chirp over and over until she emerged from the trees. At the sight of her, Hei launched themself from their sãoni and into her arms. Clicking wildly, they rubbed their cheeks against hers, looking her over to make sure she was in one piece.
“You’re late,” Hei said. “Why are you late? Why did this happen?”
Sohmeng hugged them tightly, allowing their makeup to get smeared on her cheeks. “I’m okay, I promise—things just went a little long.”
“I was worried,” Hei replied gravely, bumping their forehead into hers. “You said you’d be back before the sãoni woke up.”
“I’m sorry,” Sohmeng said. Still, she couldn’t help but smile a little. She felt bad that they’d been so concerned, but it was also nice to see just how much they cared. “And I can take care of myself, you know.”
“I would prefer to share the labour.” Hei took her hands in theirs, glancing up at the scouts in the trees.
She was enjoying the feeling of their thumbs kneading her palms when she got a closer look at the sãoni Hei had rode in on. It wasn’t Green Bites, but one of the younger, more timid ones who usually kept to the outskirts of the pack. “Wait, where is—”
“Mating season,” Hei said flatly.
“Oh.” Sohmeng laughed a little. “Well that’s... auspicious!”
“No it isn’t. Now we’re going to be stuck here until it ends and they calm down. The colony spread a little—space means less snapping at each other.” They paused, flexing their fingers in their sãoni claws. “...you should tell this hmun’s travellers to be careful for the next few phases.”
Sohmeng clicked in gratitude, bumping cheeks with Hei one more time. “I will. Thank you.” The sãoni beside them let out a little rumble, pressing his striped throat to the ground and examining Sohmeng. She approached him slowly and offered a hand, which he nudged. This one was sweet; she ought to pay him more attention. Give him a silly name or something.
“So?” Hei asked. “Did your plan work? Can you come back to the colony yet?”
The question pulled Sohmeng in so many directions. The magnetism of her wants used to be so clear, like the compass Ahn carried with him. But now she felt almost disoriented by all her conflicting desires; she wanted to catch up on lost time with her father, and persuade Nona Fahang to help fix the Sky Bridge, and figure out how to negotiate with the Qiao Sidhur, and hide with Hei and the family in Eiji and avoid all of these problems altogether.
“I—” she hesitated, unsure of where to start. “Well, things have turned out to be more complicated than I thought.”
To Hei’s credit, their clicking only sounded a little bit like a told-you-so.
“I asked the Grand Ones if they would help with Ateng, but they refused—at least, they’ve refused for now.” She said the words quickly, unwilling to take them as final. She wasn’t ready to accept the idea that the hmun would just abandon each other in a moment of crisis. “It’s the Qiao Sidhur campaign. They’ve been attacking other hmun, and things have gotten really ugly, and apparently Nona Fahang can’t spare the resources to fix the Bridge.”
Hei didn’t have much love for human society, but they still glowered at the revelation. “Ahnschen?”
“No, not Ahn—well, sort of.”
It didn’t feel good to explain the details of the interrogation that had played out. It felt even worse to explain that awaiting the final sentencing would mean a minimum of thirty days apart. Sohmeng could see the crease in Hei’s brow, the way they chewed their lip. She was asking for a lot.
“Thirty days,” Hei repeated, running a hand through their messy crop of hair.
“I can’t leave Ahn here alone, Hei. He’s...” Sohmeng didn’t really know how to describe what was going on with Ahnschen. The powerful warrior they had first encountered in the jungle seemed different, like every passing day she was allowed to pull off another plate of armour and see the uncertain man underneath. Sure, he was deadly with a sword, but the more time she spent with him, the more she began to think of that skill as a reflex, an old habit. “I don’t know, Hei. I promised I wouldn’t abandon him. I think he knows he messed up, and he wants to make it right. And if we’re going to talk to Qiao Sidh about backing out of Eiji, we need him as an ally.”
Hei clicked quietly. Sohmeng could see how fast their mind was moving, could see the brilliance and doubt reflected in their green eyes. There were so many ways this plan might not work. She braced herself, waiting to see which one it was they would bring up.
But all they eventually said was, “Mating season should buy us some time. I guess it is auspi
cious.”
“Hei! Burning godseye, thank you—” Sohmeng threw her arms around them, flooded with relief. They caught her with a little squawk of confusion.
“Why are you thanking me? I was always going to help you, Sohmeng. It just needs to work with the sãoni. I would never leave you alone.”
She squeezed them tighter, grateful beyond words. Mid-hug, she nearly popped them as another memory struck her, another very important reason she couldn’t leave Nona Fahang just yet. “Also my, my dad. I need to tell you about my dad! He’s—Hei you’re not going to believe this, but he’s alive.”
“Your father?” Hei leaned in close, as if they had somehow misheard her.
“Yeah,” Sohmeng said, laughing a little. Despite the whirlwind of complicated feelings she’d been dealing with, it still felt sort of magical to say the words aloud. “He’s here, in Nona Fahang.”
She expected an onslaught of questions, but Hei seemed more focused on how she was feeling than what more she had to say. They took her hands, ran their thumbs over her wrists to feel for tension; it made her feel listened to, even if she hadn’t said much at all.
Sohmeng sighed, watching the patterns their clawed fingers traced on her forearms. “...it isn’t fair that I have to choose like this. I want to be with you and the colony, but also be in Nona Fahang.”
“The sãoni cannot get through the wall,” Hei said with a frown. “And also that would be a horrible idea.”
“No I know that, dummy.” Sohmeng bonked her head against theirs. “And you know I’d never ask you to be with all of those people. That wouldn’t be fair.”
Hei clicked quietly, relief softening their features.
“I just wish you were a little closer. I want to be able to go in and out as I please, but I’m already not on the best terms with the Grand Ones. They’d probably dismiss me forever if I asked to keep a literal pack of sãoni camped outside their door.” Sohmeng snorted, glancing up at the scouts. They were eyeing the sãoni Hei had brought with something between caution and wonder. The lizard seemed to feel much the same, pawing at the ground. “I can hear it now: Does Ateng raise their children to be chronically inconsiderate? We’ve already warned you about the invaders like, a billion times! We have to keep them out, protect our walls, not surround them with—”