by Avi Silver
“Oh! Thank you,” she replied, grateful for the sympathetic nod he gave her, for the enthusiastic energy that radiated from him as though the celebration was his own. “I really—I really am.”
“Then let’s get you ready, yeah? Before the nerves kick in. Don’t look at me like that, it happens to everyone.” He hefted the supplies more comfortably onto his shoulder before starting up the stairwell carved into the mountain’s interior.
“Not to me,” Sohmeng said to herself, breathless with excitement as she ran up after him.
As they made the ascent, Sohmeng considered that her initial self-assessment might have been a little ambitious. Each step brought her higher up the mountain than she had ever been before, higher even than the point of the Sky Bridge’s crossing. She tilted her head back, catching sight of the sunlight that streamed through an opening in the mountain’s face, where small birds darted in and out in a rush of wings and trills. The stairs leveled out into an open cave, and the rays brightened into a full-on shine that lit the cave beyond the need for wovenstone.
“Best to keep back from the mouth,” cautioned Jinho. “Your eyes need a minute to adjust, or you’ll spend the first hour outside squeezing them shut.”
“Right,” nodded Sohmeng, as though seconds ago she had not been bracing to run directly to the entryway.
Jinho put down the gear, laying out all of the components for Sohmeng to see. She forced her gaze away from the shock of blue that teased just around the corner, attending instead to the information she needed if she wanted to survive her first day as an adult.
“Okay!” Jinho said brightly, pushing his hair back from his face. “Let’s learn how not to fall off a mountain.”
First he showed her the many straps on the harness, laughing at the way she blanched when she realized just how thin her lifeline to the mountain actually was. For all he talked about weight and counterweight and a-long-practiced-method, it looked a whole lot to Sohmeng like a big heap of rope. “It’s a matter of where you fix your weight,” he patiently explained for the third time, tightening the straps at her hips. Sohmeng thanked the gods and her mother for her thick thighs, her full waistline—she had no idea how the skinny collectors did this job without cushion. “As long as you keep yourself balanced and communicate with me, there shouldn’t be any problems.” For her own sake, she decided not to ask what a ‘problem’ entailed.
Once they made it to the mouth of the cave, which Jinho insisted she keep her back to, he introduced her to the pulley system they used, and taught her the hand gestures to signal the operators if her location needed to be adjusted beyond her basic range of movement. From there, she would use her feet to glide and hop along the cliff-face, reaching into the holes where the nests were and searching for eggs to place into the baskets attached at her thighs.
“Doesn’t it bother the birds?” she asked, flexing her fingers in her new waxed wraps as the operator, Pasme Ker, locked her harness into place.
“The yellowbills? Oh, yeah, they hate it,” Jinho said, nodding. “We plan our foraging for when they’re out hunting. If any of them stay behind, a good shout usually scares them, but we’ve all been pecked once or twice.” He held out an arm, showing off a small scar. “Most of the yellowbills have about three to four clutches a cycle, so you don’t need to feel too bad about what you take.”
“I didn’t realize I was supposed to feel bad,” she mused.
“Aaand that’s why you’re Par and I’m Tang,” Jinho said with a laugh, squinting slightly as he peered out the mouth of the cave. “Speaking of, I guess it’s time to find out if it’s really true.”
“If what’s true?” she asked, anxious hope pressing against her ribs. If she was ready to be an adult? If she was deserving of this gift? If she was bound to mess it up?
“If you can literally only listen when your life depends on it.”
To her surprise, Sohmeng found herself grateful for one last opportunity to be a little sister. “You’re an ass,” she began, grinning, but then Pasme was nudging her to go, and the sun was warm on her neck as she stepped backward into full view of clouds and birds and gods alike.
The descent over the side of the cliff was possibly the most terrifying moment of Sohmeng’s life. The world warped around her as she was liberated from solid ground, her feet scrabbling at the rough edges of the cliffside in toe-scraping reflex. She could feel her heartbeat in her tongue as clearly as the harness biting into her waist. All the while, Jinho called reassurances from above as he made his own exit. Distantly, she heard him say something about it being totally normal for new collectors to vomit on their first descent, but she was too busy trying not to prove him right to respond. She dared to look down—and then frantically grasped at the hanging rope with shaking hands, uncontrollable laughter rattling her jaw as she squeezed her eyes shut.
There came a faint whirring sound, and then Jinho was beside her, his voice moving in gentle tones. “Easy there, take your time,” he said. She planted her feet more firmly against the cliff, and felt something tickle at her ankle. Startled, she opened her eyes to see moss, bright green moss against sun-bleached sandstone, alive and thriving on the forehead of Fochão Dangde. Such a small thing, but bold enough to face down Chehangma the sun, the combined power of Ama and Chehang, piercing as a spear and all-warming as an embrace.
She turned to Jinho, eyes wide with wonder despite the way they ached in the brightness, and he laughed in delight, turning his body to the valley behind, below. And though her hands still shook, she mimicked his motion and faced the world she was estranged from.
The treetops were like a pot at full boil, rising and falling with mists roaming like steam. The Ãotul River and its many tributaries snaked along the ground, waters of the purest blue curling through mountains which rose in towers all across the land. It took her a moment to realize that the shapes darting in and out of the jungle were enormous birds in magnificent shades of magenta and turquoise and gold, that the music echoing in the clouds was their call and response. She released her grip on the rope, letting her fingers brush the mountain, tangling with sturdy flowering vines. Without regular exposure, it was easy to forget the breadth of Eiji.
“The view of the gods,” murmured Jinho. The look on his face was akin to longing. “It still takes the breath from me. Every time.”
Being a hmun of cave dwellers, many of her people dreaded this transitory job. It took a rare sort to gain pleasure from dangling from a rope miles above solid ground, but based on the way he sighed as he swung lightly in his harness, Jinho seemed to be one of them. What would happen, Sohmeng wondered, when he, like Viunwei, was moved into the job of a man? Would he be allowed to continue training the new collectors, or would he be forced back into the caves, away from the sunlight and the open air?
Her stomach knotted with guilt. She forced her gaze back to the land, searching for the sights she remembered from back when the hmun still made its crossing. There was the First Finger: a slim mountain in the cluster of three between Fochão and Sodão Dangde, each stable enough to serve as a pausing point during the crossing but not robust enough to live inside. Together, the range of five mountains sprawled high above the valley, the spread fingers of a hand raised in supplication to the gods’ eyes, home to one hmun of many. Ateng.
Strange vines dangled from the First Finger, limp and ragged compared to the rest of the life speckling the mountains. With a lurch of dizziness, Sohmeng recognized them as the remains of the Sky Bridge, tattered but still hanging, a firm reminder of the darkest day in the hmun’s history. It had been First Par, her fourteenth birthday, when the reptilian predators known as sãoni suddenly swarmed Fochão Dangde, shredding through the Sky Bridge and sending dozens of people to their deaths mid-crossing. For months after, she’d flinch at the sound of rope being cut, no matter how benign the context.
She steadied herself, facing the corpse of the Bridge like an opponent, like a Grand One, with reverence and respect and challenge.
She tried to push down thoughts of the sãoni below, kept back only by the hmun’s warriors stationed at the lower entryway, warding the creatures off with the silvertongue plant which was toxic to them.
The world she knew was such a fragile thing, bound together with nothing but sour leaves and human tenacity.
“Sohmeng?” Jinho asked, breaking her uneasy trance. “You alright?”
She turned to him and swallowed, finding the voice that the world had taken from her. “Yeah—I’m, I’m okay. Thanks for giving me a minute to . . .” She laughed a little, gesturing to their surroundings. The harness swayed slightly and her hands shot back to the mountain.
“It gets easier,” he smiled, tousling her hair and turning back to face the cliff. Sohmeng followed suit, blowing her bangs out of her eyes.
As she focused on the process of digging through the yellowbill nests, following Jinho’s tips and encouragements, Sohmeng found that he was right. Keeping her attention on the repetitive motions allowed the dangerous and staggering nature of her task to settle into the back of her mind. Incredible, how even something as mythic as this could fall into a routine.
“Are any of the others coming out today?” she asked.
Jinho shook his head, lowering himself slightly to investigate a small, mossy cranny. “The Grand Ones thought your training might be easier without any distractions.”
“Distractions,” Sohmeng repeated, scowling as she stretched her arm into a nest. Of course the Grand Ones would warn Jinho about all the trouble she was just waiting to cause. “Good to know they have faith in me.”
“Well it, it is a big day for you,” Jinho attempted carefully, non-confrontational as any good Tang. “I’m sure they just wanted to make sure it went well.”
“Yeah,” Sohmeng snorted, “and Viunwei has been a nightmare since last night because he really cares, not because—agh!” She yanked her hand back, shaking it out and peering into the nest to see a fat, satisfied-looking beetle clicking its pincers.
“Bird or beetle?” Jinho called, placing two shining eggs into his basket before rising back up to meet her.
Embarrassed, Sohmeng lifted higher. “Beetle. Big blue one with a stupid, sharp mustache.” She stepped to the left, pretending to search for a new nest.
He hummed sympathetically. “Fool’s Gems. Nasty things.” After a moment, he cleared his throat, speaking with the same caution as before. “Viunwei does care about you, you know. He’s not great at showing it sometimes, but he loves you.”
Suddenly remembering precisely who she was talking to, Sohmeng realized, like an idiot, what a huge opportunity she had here.
She considered what it would be like to have Jinho as an in-law. He mellowed out Viunwei a lot, and he was funny, and even though he didn’t always say what he meant, his heart was in the right place. Maybe their relationship trouble wasn’t her business, but Jinho sort of qualified as her friend and Viunwei definitely qualified as her brother . . .
. . . so it sort of was her business actually.
“Listen, Jinho . . .” she began, watching him smile as he pulled a large egg from a nest nearby. “You know Viunwei is like, totally in love with you, right?” The egg went crashing down onto the sãoni warriors stationed below. They yelled something up at Jinho and he shouted back a flustered apology. “I mean, he’s a total moron for dumping you but—”
“Sohmeng, that’s not really—”
“It’s okay, you can say it! I won’t be mad, I agree that he’s the worst. Honestly, you deserve some sort of prize for willingly dating him.”
“Sohmeng, I don’t know how comfortable I am having this conversation with you,” Jinho said, focusing intently on reaching for another egg.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but listen,” she continued, pulleying herself higher as she spotted a thin opening above. “I really like you, and I know Viunwei does, too. Obviously like, in a different way. I mean, you’re a great guy, but definitely not my type—” The plain horror on Jinho’s face shut her up. “. . . right. No. That was weird. What I’m trying to say is I really think the two of you can work things out if you just put in the effort.”
“You can tell that to your brother, not me,” Jinho suddenly snapped. The moment the words were out he shook his head, raising his hands. “No, no. I’m sorry Sohmeng, that wasn’t—I’m not dragging you into this.”
Sohmeng was pretty sure she was the one who’d dragged Jinho into the conversation, but she’d take what she could get to avoid getting accused of being nosy. As she was planning her next move, something caught the sunlight in the nest above her. She squinted, trying to make out the shape, but all she could see was the glint of it, bright and flickering like nothing else on the face of the cliffs. She raised herself on the pulley once more, climbing to the edge of her range before the rope started to tug taut.
“Really,” Jinho continued, “I shouldn’t have said that, it’s not fair of me to—Sohmeng, what are you doing?”
“Don’t you see that?” she asked, spreading her toes to get a better grip as she climbed.
“See what?”
“Up there, that . . . that bright thing!” Her rope stretched above her, curving out of the mouth of the cave and around the cliff-face. “There, in the light!” She eyed the mountain, mapping her handholds, doubtful that the pulley operator could get her that far. Maybe it was difficult, but Jinho had already showed her how many precautions they had in place, and it would be worth it to bring something special back from her first day out. A good omen. She grabbed hold of one of the rocks, tugging herself up.
“I, I think so? But Sohmeng, be careful,” called Jinho, abandoning his current nest to follow her. “Come back down, the rocks are jagged there—you don’t want your rope grating against them.”
Sohmeng grunted, letting her rope slacken slightly, using the strength of her body instead. Months of babysitting hadn’t done much for her triceps. “Look, I can release some of the pressure, and I’ve almost . . . got it . . .” She stretched out her arm, fingers just brushing the edge of the nest. The shiny thing glinted temptingly—it was smaller than she thought. With one last push she heaved herself up, grabbing a fistful of twigs and the prize within.
She let out a loud whoop of victory just as her foot slipped; she heard Jinho shout as she suddenly dropped, caught only by the ropes going painfully tight around her.
“G-got it!” she laughed, opening her hand to reveal a ring. It was a silver nearly as white as Chehang himself, carved with patterns she didn’t recognize. Pretty. She slipped it onto her finger, heart still pounding from the rush of the fall.
“Sohmeng Par, don’t you ever—” Jinho began, but then stopped, face going pale.
“Jinho, what—!”
She dropped then. Just slightly. Just enough for her gaze to follow Jinho’s, up to where the rope had been shredded against the mountain. The fibres were snapping, strained by the force of her fall, unable to hold her body weight.
Jinho whistled sharply through his teeth, rapidly signaling up to Pasme Ker even as his voice stayed soft. “Sohmeng, just stay still, alright? Don’t move, we’re going to get you—we’re going to get you back up.”
“Jinho,” she said, her mouth suddenly so dry, her words tangled in a gut-churning web. She saw the fraying rope, the viciously sharp cliffs above, Jinho’s signals going too fast and too slow all at once. Numbly, she flexed her fingers against the mountain, feeling how little there was to hold on to, and she couldn’t believe that her stupidity was actually going to be what killed her, that her first day out was going to end this way, that one careless glance from the gods was all it took to—
The rope snapped.
She was falling too quickly to take a breath, too suddenly to even scream—Jinho was screaming enough for them both, calling something that must have been her name. Desperate for something to grab onto, she reached for the cliff and tore through her palms like skinning a fruit. Each batt
ering strike of the mountain’s rogue branches sent her vision to sparking. Her shin clanged against the rocks as she kicked off, not wanting to be completely flayed before she hit the ground—oh godless night, the ground—
Eiji was getting closer. Bigger. Brighter. The air caught in Sohmeng’s throat on the way to her lungs, stifling her cries. Death was so close, and she couldn’t even find the air to argue.
She punched through the canopy, meeting wood and vine and leaves, slowing and stopping and tumbling once more in a terrible, infinite loop. By the time her back hit something solid, it was with a gentleness like being caught.
Mom? she thought, far from herself. Dad?
And then the world went quiet, and Sohmeng went quietly with it.
Waking was a slow and painful thing. Sohmeng attempted it several times, her eyes fluttering open just long enough for her body to shut down in response, unprepared for the reality it was being faced with. Her thoughts were hesitant to come together; when they did, they were mostly comprised of things like godless night it hurts everywhere and I hope you’re happy, you moron.
“I’m not dead,” she croaked.
The world around her didn’t take much notice. She rasped in a breath, and a sharp elastic pain snapped deep in her right side. A broken rib? A branch through her torso? She didn’t feel emotionally equipped to investigate at the moment.
“I’m not dead,” she repeated, and the delirious laugh that heaved from her opened a whole new world of pain.
Yet, her mind chimed in usefully. Not dead yet.
Sohmeng closed her eyes, counting through the lunar phases: Par, Go, Hiwei, Fua, Tang, Sol, Jão, Pel, Dongi, Se, Won, Nor, Chisong, Heng, Li, Ginhãe, Mi, Ker, Hiun, Ãofe, Soon, Nai, Tos, Jeji, Minhal. The irony was not lost on her that she was seeking solace in the gods that had finally thrown her from the mountainside for her audacity, sixteen years late.
First, she wiggled her fingers. Then her toes. Bit by bit, she woke her body back up to itself, taking note of the damage: a wrist either broken or sprained from grabbing at a tree branch, the carnage that was once her shin courtesy of the rocks, the panging in her ankle from where she’d kicked off Fochão Dangde. She loosened the harness at her hips, groaning with relief at the tingling sensation of returned bloodflow. Her belly chafed from where the rope had dug in.