by R. Cooper
“And me?” Taji mused out loud. “I do not have a knife.”
“You are human,” Talfa replied simply.
“But if I was not?” Taji needed to know what he had been telling Shavians for months with his clothing choices.
Talfa turned to study him. “You chose to wear no visible knife but dress as you do? In a soria with a graceful pattern? With your lower lip shining?” Talfa reached out but did not actually touch Taji. “You wear no adornment. I would assume rhe except…except, in another situation, I imagine you choosing sehn. Do you really wear no knife?”
It struck Taji that it wasn’t smart to advertise that, although it was too late now. “I would not know how to use it,” he admitted. He licked his lip. “Is that what the shimmer means?”
Talfa’s short laugh made Taji’s cheeks burn. “No. That means you like attention or you are…generous. Which I have no doubt you are. You have given your Trenne so much honor.”
“Um.” Taji scrubbed his forehead. “So, you? We never got to you. I would not want to call you something you would not like.”
Talfa drew themselves up until Taji became abruptly aware that Talfa was as tall as Trenne. Somehow he had forgotten. “I carry a knife,” they announced. “Sometimes I show it, but not today. I also enjoy fine things but I am not as soft as they think. I used to use sehn but no longer. You may use tahl.”
Tahl was once against disappointingly translated as they. But it was a ‘they’ Taji could correct later, since Talfa had indicated it meant something more specific than a placeholder. He bobbed his head in gratitude. “Thank you!”
“It does not take much to please you,” Talfa remarked with amusement. They angled their body toward the crowd. “Cousin Eriat calls me.”
Taji hadn’t heard anything, but turned as well to see Eriat beckoning to his cousin. Eriat was still with Tsomyal, although Gia and Rinnah had joined them. Mos had vanished again.
Taji waited, then followed Talfa to meet up with the others. With distance between them, he could see other nobles observe Talfa and nod in distant greeting.
Talfa stopped by their cousins, so Taji went to Tsomyal’s side. The Guards stayed on the periphery, but Tsomyal’s large eyes went right to them, and then to Taji. Taji raised his eyebrows.
“Talfa,” Eriat said, so pleasant and accommodating that the hair on the back of Taji’s neck stood up. “Rinnah asked about you.”
Rinnah was still for a moment, as if surprised, but then agreed. “I wondered if the walk had not gone well for you, since you were by yourself here. But I see you found company.”
Rinnah’s gaze, when it landed on Taji, was blank. A non-friendly sort of blank. She was probably still angry about that morning.
“Koel Talfa has helped me understand some words that are not in my translator,” Taji explained quickly.
“He is very interested in words,” Talfa added, amused. “His eshe must be patient.”
“The hurat?” Gia wondered. Someone must have filled her in on the gossip. “Where is the brute?”
Taji inhaled sharply.
Eriat took the cup of midye from Gia and handed it to Talfa.
“The hurat’s name is Trenne,” Talfa informed everyone, somewhat smugly. “Like your Mos, in many ways, Rinnah.”
“Mos is Inri, not hurat.” Rinnah was cool.
“Never place the Inri behind you,” Gia said, evidently enjoying herself.
Tsomyal stared Taji down, indicating he should not ask why Inri could not be trusted. Taji pulled out his data device and made a note instead, then looked up to see Rinnah watching him.
“I am sorry I failed to entertain you this morning.” She held out her hand, palm up, the tiny markings on her fingertips just visible.
“I am sorry I interrupted your tour,” Taji returned politely while putting his DD away. “I would like to go again, if that is possible.”
“Mr. Ameyo has a keen mind and an appreciation for history that is useful,” Tsomyal spoke kindly. “But it can distract him if someone is not there to watch him.”
“You should have seen him with his Trenne, Gia.” Talfa had a sip of Gia’s midye. “The hurat was not a brute at all. I found it promising. Did you, Rinnah?”
“Talfa, you have never had the discipline for midye.” Gia took her cup back. “Or anything else. Some protection would suit you well. Perhaps a lower class eshe will do, if this does not come to pass.”
Talfa took a breath but then said nothing.
Rinnah looked away. “Do not worry, Talfa.” She firmed her voice. “If even hurat know to cherish their shehzha, there is hope.”
Someone behind Taji gasped, but when he turned to see who it was, several noble Shavians were staring back at him. He kept forgetting the range of their hearing.
“It cannot be…I mean, it is not easy to trust someone else to take care of you when you are at your most helpless,” Taji pointed out, making several pairs of ears flatten and then rise again. Eriat stared hard at him. Gia tipped her head to one side. Talfa pressed their lips together.
Rinnah’s mouth was slack. Right, because they were not used to a shehzha being among them, telling them things.
“That is,” Taji floundered on, “I trust Trenne very much. With my whole heart, as some humans say. And he makes sure I am safe and happy. Is that not how it should be, even if he is,” Taji grumbled at having to say it this way, “hurat?”
“The heart?” Gia repeated in confusion. “How would that affect it?”
“The heart!” Talfa echoed with quiet delight. “The tales of honor were not wrong.”
“That is how it should be,” Eriat surprised Taji by agreeing, albeit with stiff unhappiness. “Even with a hurat.”
“I am pleased to learn your choice was a good one. May all shehzha be so happy,” Rinnah added. It sounded like a blessing and yet it silenced everyone around them.
Tsomyal took Taji’s arm, cutting off his next question, and every single eye around them went to Tsomyal’s hand on him. No one had looked twice at that contact before. But Taji was shehzha to them now.
He made a show of supporting Tsomyal and asking about their health until some of the tension eased and everyone began to talk of something else. Tsomyal’s stare was piercing. Taji tried to silently indicate he would explain later.
“You and Talfa used to chase each other through the tunnels when you were young, did you not?” Someone must have refilled Gia’s cup, or gotten her a new one. “You and Talfa and Larin, Quida, and Phyta as well, if I am not mistaken.”
“Some of the Shyril also joined us, here and elsewhere.” Rinnah was so cool as to almost be cold.
“Elii was often here, was he not?” Talfa asked, without seeming to expect an answer.
“Elii!” Rinnah echoed, on an exhale. “Elii was—”
“Is,” Talfa corrected. “He exists.”
If Shavians truly had a low birth rate, then it made sense that many of the noble children would know each other. And that there would be some overlap and competition in trying to find someone suitable to make children with. But it probably also made the issue of ties and marriage somewhat complicated. Not everyone grew up as childhood sweethearts, the way Taji imagined Phyta and Quida had. It might still be expected, however.
He glanced between Talfa and Rinnah, and then Eriat, who was very insistent that Talfa and Rinnah talk to each other. If Eriat was matchmaking, he was doing it clumsily. Taji had thought the situation was different, that Rinnah wasn’t looking to be tied. He’d thought that was her brother’s plan to either provide someone who could someday claim the title of emperor, or to keep her from trying to claim the title.
If Rinnah was hoping to choose on her own, Taji wasn’t sure that she wanted a shehzha. And if the point of a match was children, then she might not necessarily need a shehzha.
He looked at Tsomyal. Tsomyal gazed back, revealing nothing.
Taji supposed if he had been caught in the middle of—possible—treason, then a
last-ditch effort to win over a powerful ally like Rinnah made sense. So did using her childhood friend to do it. But not if they all thought Talfa was shehzha.
“I have not seen Elii in years,” Rinnah said regretfully.
“Elii always preferred the capital.” Talfa sighed, only to fall silent when someone came up behind them and slung an arm around their waist.
“No, Elii always preferred Larin. Is that not so, Talfa?” Nikay asked on a laugh. Taji saw ears swivel in their direction from all the way across the garden. “Not that Talfa is not obliging or pretty.”
“Nikay.” There was endless meaning in the cold drop of that name from Rinnah’s mouth.
“I thought there would be someone to take care of you by now, Talfa,” Nikay went on, grinning against Talfa’s shoulder before releasing them and turning to face Rinnah. “Rinnah. You changed your hair.”
“I do not need a caretaker,” Talfa informed Nikay with sharp pronunciation.
“That is certainly no way to win one. Unless you are hoping for a chase?” Nikay’s smile softened. “I have never understood making the effort when they will come to you. But some are old-fashioned. We know Eriat’s tastes, but how about you, Rinnah?”
Eriat made a sound that was not speech.
“Eriat,” Rinnah quietly interrupted. “Perhaps something to eat? You have been active all day.”
“I am well,” Eriat insisted, staring steadily at Nikay.
“I was praising your good sense,” Nikay told him, sincerely as far as Taji could see. “The Koel are a great family. They have been shehzha to many an emperor.”
Talfa’s gaze darted to Taji’s, then away.
“Some have even controlled emperors,” Nikay added, also looking to Taji. “Or so the stories say. But I have never believed it. Shehzha are simple.”
That seemed like a foolhardy thing to say in a world where people could get away with killing him for harming a shehzha, although it came just short of actual harm. Taji would bet it was dishonorable as shit, though.
“It makes sense,” Taji mused aloud. “In every society there are certain cultural norms and values that are accepted, even revered, by most of the population. But there are always deviations. Criminals, usually, whether or not the laws they defy are just. Or, if not criminals, then members of society considered outside the realms of acceptable behavior. That could be good or bad. It depends on the cultural norms in question. If you were in Bilroch—which is on Gans—have you ever been to that planet, Nikay?”
Taji didn’t pause because of course Nikay hadn’t been anywhere. “The Bilroch used to have strictures against young, unattached males traveling anywhere alone. I do not remember the reason for the original law, or tradition, whichever it was, but males who violated that stricture, or even spoke against it, were shunned. That seems harsh, but technically they were criminals.
“Now, the opposite is true on Iso 8. Have you ever been there?” Taji frowned earnestly at Nikay but carried on without waiting for the answer. “I will assume no. On Iso 8, they have a strong cultural insistence on kindness, especially to strangers. But if the strangers are unkind, they are encouraged to leave the moon, sometimes forcefully. It is not a law, but it keeps the peace there.”
“I do not understand,” Talfa interrupted, while Nikay’s stare hardened, “but I am interested.”
“Sorry.” Taji shook his head. “My point was that even in this society, where the relationship between the one the shehzha has honored with their adoration and the helpless shehzha is almost sacred, there will be people who do not see it that way.” Taji gestured to Eriat for support. Eriat had children and a servant he loved, even if he hadn’t married her. “It is about reciprocity, yes? The shehzha literally gives everything they have to give—their bodies, their names, their health, their children sometimes, their honor, and in return, the one who might seem more powerful—a controlled, strong eshe—must take care of them.”
Taji’s voice cracked at the very idea of anyone taking care of him. He tried to ignore it. “The eshe has to fight the influence of the bond in order to give their shehzha everything they need, anything they might want, and protect them. And they cannot fail without society condemning them. That seems…that seems more than fair. If anything, the shehzha has the best part of the deal. They do not have to struggle for control the whole time. They get to let go. Ah…fuck,” Taji added softly, making a few Shavians around him startle as if they knew that word.
He should have seen this before. Shehzha were an emotional release valve for the entire culture. They were allowed to do and speak as they wanted, and their eshe got to openly express love and devotion—even fury and bloodlust—under the guise of caring for someone vulnerable.
“Um,” Taji finished, abruptly less eloquent. “So, yeah. I think a shehzha could absolutely lead an emperor, if that emperor has any honor and respect for their own cultural ideals.”
For several seconds, no one spoke. Even nobles across the garden seemed to quiet. Taji looked to Tsomyal, who stared but did not offer a word.
“What does a human trader understand of it?” Nikay demanded at last, drawing Taji’s attention from how Eriat had his hand at his belt, by his knife.
Nikay was very tall. They were all tall, as well as big and armed. And every single one of them—every single person here—had a claim to the title of emperor, even if so far no one was openly acknowledging that.
Taji was a small—situationally or not—human, hampered by his leg, and unarmed, with Tsomyal to think about and Trenne far away.
“Very little, although I learn fast,” Taji admitted, as conciliatory as he could manage to be. “This hunt, for example. What do you hunt? I spend all my time in the capital, so I have not seen much wildlife.”
“In other times, we would hunt in the forests or the plains of the interior,” Rinnah informed him. What Shavians called a forest must be massive if their gardens were what Taji would have labeled forests.
“Tomorrow, we travel down the slope of the mountain.” Nikay regarded Taji without smiling. “The first hunt was a competition between families. That is a tradition we keep.”
“Although the hunting parties are not always aligned by family,” Talfa added.
“Is it a matter of who gets the most kills?” Taji thought of dozens of Shavians, alone, in the woods, with weapons. “Of animals, I mean. Or do you work to take down one animal? And what do the winners get?”
“Pride.” Nikay looked to Rinnah. “Will you be joining us? You would be with your brother, and with me, naturally.”
Rinnah didn’t blink. “I will be keeping Ambassador Tsomyal company. They are recovering from an illness and too weak to venture down the mountain.”
So, Rinnah had no intention of going out into the forest where any accidents might happen. Or she might just not like hunting. Or Nikay.
Instead of being reassured by Rinnah’s good sense, Taji was tense and growing tenser. “What sort of weapons do you use?” Shavians had long-range weapons as well as personal blasters that Rodian had said were “as close to a fucking mini-cannon as you can get, and too heavy for a human to wear at their shoulder.”
“What good is a kill if you do not make it with your hands?” Nikay asked with false idleness, destroying Taji’s hope that Nikay did not know how to use the knife he wore.
Taji reached into his soria to wrap his fingers around his comm unit. He tried to breathe, slowly, calmly.
“You stalk through the woods with just your knives?” Taji could hear the strain in his own voice. With their coloring, if they removed their bright sorias, they would disappear against the trees, in the shadows. Barefoot, there was very little they couldn’t climb.
“The hunt, as it was meant to be.” Nikay showed his teeth.
“Sha, as we are,” Talfa finished, as if reciting something.
Taji stopped breathing, then jumped when Nikay made a derisive noise in his throat.
“Shehzha do not hunt, Talfa.” Nikay
leaned against Talfa again, then tilted his head to look at Rinnah. “But I will bring you something. And you, Rinnah, whatever you wish.”
When Taji was less terrified, he was going to identify every single reason he disliked Nikay and justify his loathing with logic. In the meantime, Tsomyal reached out and Taji took their arm with gratitude.
“Rinnah has already been promised many prizes from her brother,” Mos cut in as she came to stand at Rinnah’s shoulder.
Rinnah released a small breath, then said gently, “But thank you for the offer, Nikay.”
Talfa put a hand over their mouth. It did not fully disguise the sound of a short laugh.
Taji coughed and cleared his throat, as if that would help.