“You have it correct,” I said. My fourth failure: at this point I could not think what to say. I have spent days practicing for the official meetings, but had not made any preparations for speaking to a small wet girl on the edge of a fishpond.
“Good,” she said with satisfaction. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find you. Grandmama said this is a fairly small palace as palaces go, but it looks big enough that I could have missed you pretty easily. And I wanted to meet you before tomorrow, because it will be stuffy and boring and we won’t have any chance to talk.”
She spoke Scirling rapidly enough that I had trouble following her words—I need to practice more with that language. The girl noticed my confusion . . . and promptly repeated herself in our tongue.
At that point I lost all proper courtesy and only said, “Who are you?”
“Audrey Camherst,” she said, as if that should have been obvious. “I’m Lady Trent’s granddaughter.”
Failing to guess her identity was my fifth failure. Agarzt and I were given a list of everyone who would be attending the meeting, and Audrey Camherst was among them; I knew she would be young, and I have met both of her parents, so I knew she would be half Scirling, half Erigan. Up close, she did not look Kengumet anymore. And what other human child would default to speaking Scirling, then repeat herself in our language without so much as a pause to think?
But these are my small failures. My great one had yet to come.
I was about to suggest she come with the two of us back to our rooms, where we had towels she could use to dry off, when a shout came from the direction of the palace. Three of the guards had seen us. And while Teslit and I were permitted to be there, Audrey was not.
To them, it didn’t matter that she is an eight-year-old child. Their duty is to protect the emperor, and any intruder is a threat to his safety.
I forgot myself completely. I have lived my whole life among humans, except for visits to the Sanctuary, but when crisis threatened I allowed instinct to defeat fifteen years of experience. I immediately spread my wings to defend Audrey. But the guards in Ongnan are not used to our people, and my reaction frightened two of them so that they lifted their rifles and aimed them at me. Teslit flung herself between us, calling out that they should not be alarmed, and then from behind me came a splash as Audrey jumped back into the pond for safety.
The third guard, who was their captain, shoved one of the rifles toward the ground, shouting at his soldiers to lower their arms. The one whose rifle he touched pulled the trigger in surprise. He fired into the dirt, so no one was harmed—but the sound of a gunshot brought all the other guards running.
If I had kept my wings folded, none of this might have happened. But I lost control, and I didn’t manage to resolve the situation before we had nearly two dozen soldiers in the garden, along with the emperor himself.
He came outside once it was clear there was no threat. Yelangese protocol said I should kneel to him, and I would have . . . except that as Teslit moved to kneel at my side, she collapsed.
It was the sudden panic of the scene that weakened her. It made her heart race, and the strain was too much. She is resting now, and the physicians say she will be well in a day or two, but I put my sister in a dangerous situation—a situation I made dangerous, by my own failures. I disturbed the emperor, disrupted the whole palace, and left Lady Trent’s granddaughter sitting in a fishpond.
I am a failure as a diplomat. Perhaps thirty years from now I will be capable, but at fifteen I am a disgrace. Teslit has tried to reassure me; she says I can only learn by experience, not by hiding, and that things like this happen when Camhersts are around. But I cannot forgive myself for hurting my sister, nor for disgracing the Sanctuary with my incompetence. I will accept any punishment the elders choose to lay upon me. I am not fit to represent our people in human company.
May the earth reject me if I have attempted to hide my errors. May the sun judge me as I deserve.
Kudshayn, son of Ahheke, daughter of Iztam
PRESENT DAY
FROM THE NOTEBOOK OF CORA FITZARTHUR
Wings cupped around body This is a sign of respect, like bowing or curtsying for humans. But it is less frequent among Draconeans who spend a lot of time around humans, because they don’t want to hit anything with their wings in the process of wrapping them, and we tend to have a lot more breakable possessions very closely packed—at least rich Scirlings and Yelangese do. Because of this, it’s becoming more common for them to cross their arms over their chests, which is how humans imitate the act of cupping the wings. So we’re learning their body language, and then they learn it again from us. That seems very odd.
Wings cupped around each other
Like a hug. Kudshayn says it is very comforting, and a thing family do for each other; when non-family do it, that’s very intimate. But not sexually intimate, I think, and then he was shocked that I said such a thing. Audrey wasn’t, though; she just laughed and said I was correct.
Wings tucked tightly against back
A sign of discomfort, usually in situations that are emotionally uncomfortable rather than physically. Audrey said she assumed this is because they want to protect their wings (which are relatively fragile) against things that might damage them, but Kudshayn said it’s childish body language; their wings don’t really begin to stretch out and grow strong until they’re older. He also thinks it might be an instinct from their time in the shell, where they are safe and also crammed into a very small space, though no Draconean he has ever spoken to remembers being in the shell, so he’s really just guessing. I think it is like humans going into the fetal position.
Wings spread
Very much like a cat puffing up its fur. This makes the Draconean look bigger and more threatening, so it’s used as a signal of anger or in the face of danger. They will also do this as the equivalent of two humans having a staring contest; I didn’t quite follow the explanation, but it has to do with blood flow to their wings and the fact that most Draconeans live in very cold mountains, so by spreading their wings they’re risking hypothermia, and the first one to furl them has done the equivalent of blinking. I asked Kudshayn what they will do for their staring contests if they ever start living in warmer parts of the world, and he doesn’t know. They definitely can’t make a habit of it indoors; Draconean wings are much smaller proportional to their bodies than most dragons’ (the ones who can fly, anyway; Draconeans can only glide), but they would still smash quite a lot of things in our houses if they extended them fully.
Wings drooping
Like a sigh. Audrey warned me that it’s often a very subtle movement, but so are a lot of sighs.
Wings rattling
A kind of silent laugh. They don’t really rattle, of course, because they aren’t made of metal or anything hard, but that’s the word both Audrey and Kudshayn use for it. He demonstrated for me and the sound is more like a leathery flutter, but since they both say “rattle,” I’ll go on using that word, even though it isn’t really accurate.
So much of their body language is about wings. That makes sense. Their faces are less expressive than ours are, but we don’t have wings to signal with, so it balances out in the end. Audrey taught me some other gestures, too, though.
Nostrils flaring
All Draconeans can control this, much better than most humans can (though there are some humans who can control it very well). For them it’s like raising our eyebrows is for us. Audrey says that her grandmother, Lady Trent, thinks this is because they have a better sense of smell than we do, and so they have a biological instinct to flare their nostrils and breathe deeply as a way of investigating things, which means they also do it as a way of signaling curiosity. Draconean settlements must be much cleaner than our cities, or they would find being curious there very unpleasant.
Holding the muzzle shut
Equivalent to putting a finger on your lips; it means to hush. Draconeans also do this to each other, much more often th
an we put our fingers on other people’s lips. Apparently Draconean nannies have to do it a lot to teach their charges to be quiet. (Their nannies are male! Only about twenty percent of Draconeans are male—I knew that before Audrey told me—and so they watch over the creches where hatchlings are raised.)
Hand reaching high
Like a human putting their hand on their heart to show sincerity. I read in one of Uncle’s books that Draconeans worship the sun, which the book says is terrible idolatry and a sign of why the Anevrai (the ancient Draconeans) deserved to be overthrown, but I don’t see that it makes much difference. And now I know why Audrey says so many things about the sun. Between that and the references to ships and sea things, I should write up notes on what she really means when she talks, because many of the things she says make no sense. This is probably because she had what Uncle calls a deplorable upbringing.
I’m sure there are more, but Audrey and Kudshayn both admitted they have a hard time thinking about these things, because they just take it so much for granted. I wonder if I could get enough to fill a book? Probably not, but I could also learn the rules of Draconean etiquette to make it longer.
I think there must be a need for such a thing. The staff here at Stokesley mostly avoid Kudshayn, and half of them are afraid of him. (Rebecca hides any time she thinks she hears him coming.) I can only imagine other people will react the same way when their delegation comes here next winter to talk about what’s going to happen to their homeland. People, humans that is, will need to know how to interact with them. And that will be even more true if the Draconeans start establishing enclaves of people like Kudshayn who can live outside the mountains.
(Uncle chastised me yesterday for calling them “people” instead of “Draconeans.” But that’s the word Audrey uses, and she’s dealt with them a lot more than he has, so I think she’s probably right. I’ll try to avoid it around him, though—I don’t want him to think I’m being disobedient or ungrateful.)
Tablet V: “The Fledging Tablet”
translated by Audrey Camherst and Kudshayn
The time had come for the four siblings to undergo the rite of fledging. Hastu had promised it. He sought out a dream to consider the question of how they should be tested. In his sleep he considered it, during the times of noise, during the times of quiet.1
He woke and addressed the people, saying, “I have dreamt2 of a sun in the sky and a cavern in the earth, of the sea ahead and the forest behind. Each of the four shall go in a different direction; each of the four shall have a separate trial.” The people were much surprised, because it was the custom for clutches to undergo their trials together.
Hastu the šiknas3 said, “Samšin will go to the east, where the sun has its birth. Ektabr will go to the west, where the sun descends into the caverns of the earth. Nahri will go to the south, where the forests grow tall. Imalkit will go to the north, where the waters4 lap the shore. Each will journey until they meet their trial, and return if they can.”
The four embraced each other with their wings. Samšin said, “Be careful. Never before has a clutch been sent out in four directions at once. But I believe this will all be for the best: each of us must find our own strength, so that when we come together again we will be stronger still.”
But Ektabr said, “Our strength is in each other. If we are to be parted, then we must give one another tokens, so that we will remain together even as we go in four directions at once.” The others saw the wisdom of this, and so each gave to each of the others a gift. Then they parted.
Ektabr went to the west. For many days and many nights he journeyed, across plains, across rivers, across mountains, across forests. He came to an opening in the ground. He said to himself, “Hastu had a vision of a cavern, and so this is where I should go. But caverns are the mouths of the earth; they eat up5 what descends into them. How can I return to my sisters, if I go into this cave?”
He remembered his gift from Imalkit. She had given him a length of gut, many lengths tied end to end. He wrapped one end around a stone at the mouth of the cave and unrolled the ball as he went, so that he could find his way out again.
The cave was filled with dangers. There were pits to fall into, pools to drown in, spiders who stretched their webs thickly across the way. But there were wonders also, beautiful forms of crystal and stone. Ektabr sat for a long time and considered these things, fixing them in his mind. He took a stone in his hand and made marks on the wall, images6 of the beasts of the land and sky, which had never been seen in the depths of the earth before. Then he followed his cord out of the cave and into the light once more.
Imalkit went to the north. For many days and many nights she journeyed, across plains, across rivers, across mountains, across forests.7 She came to a place of water. She said to herself, “Hastu had a vision of waters lapping the shore, and so this is where I should go. But waters are the edge of the earth; they drown whatever goes into them. How can I return to my siblings, if I go into this water?”
She remembered her gift from Nahri. She had given her a bundle of reeds, many strong reeds in a bunch. She took the reeds and tied them together so that they floated upon the water. Then she climbed upon her raft and went out.
The water was filled with dangers. There were storms, rough waves, creatures with many teeth to eat her alive. But there were wonders also, bright fish and the light upon the water. Imalkit played with them, dangling leaves from her raft to mislead them, using her shadow to make them flee. She made a trap to trail behind her raft to capture the dangerous ones. Then she spread her wings and let the wind carry her back to shore.
Nahri went to the south. For many days and many nights she journeyed, across plains, across rivers, across mountains, across forests. She came to a place of many trees. She said to herself, “Hastu had a vision of a forest, and so this is where I should go. But forests are the traps of the earth; they ensnare whatever goes into them. How can I return to my siblings, if I go into this forest?”
She remembered her gift from Samšin. She had given her a mace, a stone head on a [. . .]8 her. Then she went in among the trees.
The forest was filled with dangers. There were wild beasts, poisonous plants, branches that blocked the light of the sun. But there were wonders also, beautiful flowers, bright insects, abundant life on all sides. Nahri gathered up seeds; she gathered up nuts. She spoke to the animals and the trees, showing them patience and kindness, and they taught her their ways. Then she followed the deer to the edge of the forest once more.
Samšin went to the east. For many days and many nights she journeyed, across plains, across rivers, across mountains, across forests. She came to a dry place without water.9 She said to herself, “Hastu had a vision of the place where the sun has its birth, and so this is where I should go. But there is nothing here. What have I come here to find?”
She remembered her gift from Ektabr. He had given her a prayer, words to recite in a strong voice. She recited them as she went forward.
The desert was empty. There was barren stone, barren dirt. There was nothing for Samšin to find. She walked on and on. She had nothing to drink, nothing to eat. She began to think she would never return to her siblings.
Then a shadow fell upon her from above. An issur descended toward her with its jaws spread. Samšin continued to recite her prayer. The issur landed in front of her and waited. Samšin continued to pray. She laid her hand upon the issur’s head; it bowed its head low. She thanked it and left the desert.
The four came back together. Ektabr told his sisters what he had seen under the earth. Imalkit told them of how she had tricked the creatures of the sea. Nahri told them what she had learned from the animals and trees. Samšin told them how the issur had lain quietly under her hand. She said, “Let us go to Hastu and tell him that we have completed our rites. I think he will be much surprised.”
And so they went back to their people. Hastu came to meet them, saying, “No one has ever under gone rites like yours, and com
e back with such things they have learned.”
“That is your doing,” Samšin said. The four gave thanks to the Ever-Moving, the Ever-Standing, the Light of the World, the ones who had given them life.
After that, the people followed the four who hatched from a single shell.
1 Day and night?—K
I assume so. That’s an unusual way of describing them.—AC
2 Strange that the dream is not repeated, according to the usual poetic custom.—K
3 Until we can arrive at a satisfactory gloss for this word, I think it would be best to leave it untranslated.—K
Yes—though it annoys me that we can’t figure it out.—AC
4 More geographical clues? There used to be cedar forests in southern Anthiope, and I suppose waters are to the north if you mean the Sea of Alsukir.—AC Or central Anthiope, and the Bay of Rójkat. If it was cannabis they used to drug Hastu, that’s more likely to be found in Tashal or Zmayet. I looked it up in one of Uncle’s books.—CF
So it’s your uncle who has the unexpected interest in drugs? You’ll have to show me where that part of the library is.—AC
We shouldn’t assume this refers to real geography at all. It might just be symbolic. There’s evidence in ancient sites of the colours being associated with directions more generally: gold or yellow in the east, black in the west, green in the south, blue in the north.—K
5 This suggests that in the ancient past, the Anevrai saw caves as dangerous, rather than the source of refuge they are to us today.—K
6 I thought rock art was done by early humans.—CF
So did I! This doesn’t mean it wasn’t, of course; both Anevrai and humans could have made markings on cave walls. But we’re going to have to re-examine that now, and see if we can tell who created images in different places.—AC
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