Three Seeking Stars

by Avi Silver

  Ahn was fortunate that a few words of Atenpga overlapped with Dulpongpa, but Sohmeng and Hei usually spoke too fast for him to have a chance of keeping up. All he could do was rely on Sohmeng to translate.

  Wait, that was a word he knew—fire. An instinct bad enough to be Schenn’s tugged at him, and he reached for his bag of firestarter, offering it hopefully. “Fire? Working fast.” His sister would probably clobber him for the waste of resources, but it would only be a few grains. A show of goodwill. “Good help starting.”

  Hei stared at him, unblinking as the sãoni and twice as cold.

  Ahn stared back, suddenly feeling quite foolish.

  “Oh, Ahn, that’s—that’s really nice of you.” Sohmeng pocketed her dice, giving Hei the kind of look usually worn by parents of squabbling children. “But I think Hei’s got it. Wouldn’t want to waste your stuff.”

  “Not a waste,” he replied, but put it away nonetheless. After the way they’d met, he couldn’t blame them for being wary of the stuff.

  “So,” Sohmeng said after a beat, “have you had crested crane eggs before?” She passed one to him; it was about twice the size of the duck eggs he ate back home, its shell cream speckled in blue. “They’re big wading birds, hang out around rivers. The sãoni have a real taste for the meat so there’s hardly ever any left for us to hunt. But once the mothers are gone, it’s easier to dig up the eggs they hide in their nests. Hei taught me that trick.”

  “Clever,” Ahn said, turning the egg over in his hand.

  “Sure easier than going for yellowbills,” she muttered. Hei made a sãoni noise, and without missing a beat, Sohmeng tossed a stick into their waiting palm. “Eiji has a lot to offer. You just need to know where to look for it.”

  “I am still learning,” Ahn said, passing the egg back. Their fingers brushed, and he felt the smoothness of her silver ring, inscribed with Qiao Sidhur patterning. Sohmeng had told him how she’d found it on a mountainside, just before she fell. She had told him a lot of things this past week, testing and expanding both of their capacity with Dulpongpa. Ahn was not much of a believer in luck, but stumbling across a piece of home when he was more lost than he’d ever been felt nearly fated.

  “Speeeaking of learning,” Sohmeng said with a mischievous look. “Can I try again? I think I might get it this time.”

  “Oh,” Ahn blinked, feeling his cheeks go hot. This again. “I, I mean, I suppose, if—”

  “Okay let’s do it.” She sat up, rubbing her hands together. This time, the string of syllables that came out of her mouth very nearly sounded like his name. Almost. Well, no, not much actually. The pronunciation was horrendous and the pitch was all over the place, but she certainly was enthusiastic, and Ahn didn’t want to take that away from her. “How’s that?”

  Beside her, Hei was smirking, using one of their sãoni claws to peel the wet bark from a stick. Though they hadn’t participated in Try to Pronounce Ahn’s Name, Isn’t it Silly, We Only Have Two!, they seemed to take pleasure in the game.

  “Wait, wait, no. Let me, um, the middle bit went Chongem...jir?” She struggled for a minute and then groaned in defeat. “Burning godseye, the vowels. I think that was worse than my first try.”

  “No, it was, it was much closer!” Being who he was, Ahn had never known anyone who couldn’t pronounce his name. Most people knew it before even meeting him.

  “Say it again,” she insisted. “I can do it this time.”

  “You can just call me Ahn, it’s not a—”

  “Say it, Yongrir.” She paused. “That was closer, right?”

  “Éongrir Ahnschen-Eløndham, Qøngemzhir, Sølshendasá, Siengunghvøs.”

  Hei snorted. Considering they preferred to answer to the calls of animals, Ahn found that to be a bit unfair.

  “...I might need a little more practice,” Sohmeng conceded with a pout. “That’s so many names though, Ahn. There’s no reason for anyone to have that many names.”

  “It helps to know who we are,” Ahn explained. “Like your, ah...the phase names? Does your hmun use those?” The people of Kongkempei, the hmun his campaign had first landed in, all had a lunar phase attached to their names, along with an indicator of their roles in the community. He had hoped to learn more about it, before—well. Before they had left. Before the relationship ceased to be diplomatic. “You had not given me one, so I did not know.”

  Something strange flashed on Sohmeng’s face. Hei paused their work preparing the kindling, giving Ahn a look that could have been a warning.

  “Minhal,” she said, chin lifted. “I’m Sohmeng Minhal. Hei doesn’t use a phase name.”

  “I see,” Ahn said. Minhal. He practiced the shape of the name on his tongue—he would feel foolish if he couldn’t say it properly when Sohmeng was putting so much effort into his full title. “It’s very pretty.”

  “Pretty?” Sohmeng laughed, but he could see the way her ears flushed. “You’re weird, Ahn. Or Ahnschen, right? You just called yourself Ahn when we met, is the ‘schen’ part less important?”

  “No—” The world suddenly felt tight on Ahn’s shoulders, a persistent pressure that extended down his spine. His hand was at his chest before he could stop himself, fingers drawn to the great scar there. He swallowed, pretending to adjust his shirt. “No, it...”

  Hei and Sohmeng were looking at him, expecting something he did not know how to give. Ahnschen. Ahn Schenn. Sworn by the sword to guide each other between the worlds. This was not something he had ever needed to explain—the merging of their names was a symbol of their union, its meaning obvious as the bone that pierced Ahn’s ear. Everyone in Qiao Sidh could see it, and so he would never have to say it. Never have to explain himself.

  Maybe that was why he had left Schenn out of his mouth on first introduction. Maybe that’s why he’d been such a coward.

  “I am sorry,” he said, offering a smile he hoped distracted from the sound of his heart. “Difficult to explain in a new language.”

  “That’s alright!” Sohmeng replied, patting him on the shoulder. “It’ll be a few phases before the colony gets closer to your hmun. We’ll have plenty of time to practice.”

  “Of course—good to, good to practice.” Ahn nodded, trying to shake himself out of the fuzziness. He had to stay focused. The past was done, the roles were set; now all he could do was try to honour Schenn. Prove himself as the general the two of them were meant to embody together. For now that meant laying low, being as pleasant as he could in the company of these strangers and their sãoni until he could get back to the campaign.

  Hei crouched beside the fire, their breath bringing its flames roiling to life. His belly rumbled alongside the sound, an easy distraction. All he had to do was survive the journey home. And despite his lack of skills in the wilderness and poor sense of direction, Ahn had always been terribly good at surviving.

  Paragon of patience and reason that she was, Sohmeng couldn’t see why Hei was being so uncooperative. She stepped over the leg of a snoozing sãoni, attempting to keep up with Hei as they wove through the trees in the dark. The bioluminescent moss wasn’t prime lighting, but it was easier to forage when the curious creatures had conked out. With Ahn asleep and the majority of the day’s distractions out of the way, Sohmeng figured now might be a good time to attempt this conversation. Again.

  “I’m just saying,” she said, “things would be a lot easier if you bit him!”

  “Absolutely not,” they snapped, punctuating it with a Sãonipa growl.

  “Why not? You bit me, and that turned out just fine.” She hopped in front of them, offering a winning grin. They couldn’t argue with that.

  Hei flapped their hands at her, flustered. “That’s—that’s completely different.”

  “Different how?” she asked.

  “I like you!”

  “You didn’t like me when you first bit me—”

  “I’m not biting this man, Sohmeng.” Hei looked over to Ahn’s sleeping form, letting out a series of l
ow, displeased clicks. Their jaw was set stubborn, their expression downright sullen. They were impossible to negotiate with when they got this way, but Sohmeng had beat worse odds before, and she didn’t feel like relenting. “You bite him, if it matters to you so much.”

  What with those biceps, Sohmeng could not deny that she had considered it. Thoroughly. Even still, she was a woman of sense. “It wouldn’t work, Hei. The colony’s accepted me, sure, but you’re Mama’s baby.” She chirped their sãoni name for emphasis. “I’m just Mama’s baby’s girlfriend. They’d still eat me if you asked really nicely.”

  “I wouldn’t—” Hei cut themself off, presumably catching on that Sohmeng didn’t mean it literally. With a loud, aggravated sigh, they dropped to their knees and began working at a wild yam vine. “That’s not true. And even if it was, they hardly ever follow my instructions. I’m not anyone’s alpha.”

  “You’re my alpha,” she teased, but Hei waved her off with another grumble.

  It was going to be like that, then. Sohmeng took a deep breath, trying to re-evaluate her strategy.

  Things hadn’t been easy since Ahn joined them. Sohmeng had barely had time to process what she and Hei had found in Sodão Dangde before they had to adjust to the complication of bringing a stranger into their family. For a member of the massive hmun that had thrown all of Eiji out of balance and destroyed life as she knew it, Ahn seemed like a nice guy. He was patient with Sohmeng’s questions, and didn’t run screaming every time the sãoni antagonized him. At the very least, he seemed like their best opportunity to fix all that was broken in Eiji; if they could bring him up to his hmun and explain the impact their arrival had had on Ateng, everything could get back to normal. Maybe the surrounding hmun might even help Ahn’s people find a new place to settle, where the sãoni migration route wouldn’t be thrown so dramatically out of balance. That thought alone had been worth the living nightmare that was persuading Singing Violet, the most even-tempered of the sãoni, to allow Ahn on her back with Sohmeng, on the condition that his hair was covered.

  But Hei had been against him travelling alongside the colony since day one. They hardly spoke a word to him, and when they did, Sohmeng was thankful for the relative language barrier. She’d thought Hei was standoffish when the two of them first met, but that was nothing compared to the brazen hostility they were slinging Ahn’s way. Their distrust made sense, especially given the impact Ahn’s people had had on the ecosystem, but Sohmeng wasn’t just going to leave him to die.

  Or allow the sãoni to eat him. That was another issue she still needed to work out with Hei.

  She watched them work through the soil with their sãoni claws until it was loosened enough to retrieve the tubers beneath. For a moment she chewed her lip, admiring their grace. Trying to figure out how to make her words clever enough to match Hei’s hands.

  A rumble came from Mama, who was dozing off against a nearby tree. The sãoni cracked an eye open, huffing as she watched them work. Sohmeng walked over to her, snuggling up between her fore- and mid-legs. Oddly enough, Ahn’s fear of the colony helped her recognize her own comfort with them.

  “Don’t worry, Mama,” she said, stroking the sãoni’s nose. “We won’t be up too late. Promise.”

  Once the yams were packed away in their bag, Hei joined her. They thudded their head back against Mama, looking up at the stars with a deep frown. Sohmeng had seen them look worried before—honestly, it was one of their default expressions—but this was different. Bone-deep.

  She ran a hand through their hair, scratching until their shoulders lowered slightly, until their breaths looked more full. She knew she had done okay when they stole a kiss, shy despite everything. It made Sohmeng want to poke them with her elbow, to tease them about how silly they were, looking at her like that. But she didn’t want them to stop it either. It was nice, to have Hei be so open with their affection, their infatuation—nicer still because they never expected her to behave the same way in return.

  “How are her eggs doing?” Sohmeng asked, moving her hand to Mama’s bumpy cheek. The stripes on her neck were glowing deep purple in the dark, as though she too were a moss-speckled tree.

  Hei, who had never been one for subtlety, leaned over Sohmeng to pop their arm straight into Mama’s cheek pouch. Sohmeng wrinkled her nose, but the sãoni didn’t seem bothered. “They’re getting close to hatching. That might be why we’ve been slowing down, especially after covering so much distance in the past few days.” They pulled out their hand, shaking off the excess slime. “I would like to see us move further before mating season begins. The mature sãoni are getting restless. They’ll need some space so they don’t get aggressive.”

  Sohmeng wondered if that was one reason they’d been so touchy lately; maybe it didn’t all have to do with Ahn. A thought suddenly struck her. “Wait, does Mama have a mate? I’ve never seen anyone get clingy with her.”

  Hei chirped, nodding. “She’s chosen different ones for the past couple of cycles. Her mate from the last is still with the colony. Younger than her, scar on the back leg.”

  Sohmeng whistled, giving the sleepy sãoni’s head another pat. “Get it, Mama. So he played damwei for these eggs?”

  “This clutch isn’t hers, actually. They were laid by another sãoni outside of mating season. Rare, but it happens. She was killed by a trap left out by a hmun, and Mama scooped the eggs up for herself.”

  “Kind of has an adoption habit, huh?”

  Hei clicked an affirmative with a tender smile, leaning their head against Mama’s side and listening to her breathe. Sohmeng found herself appreciating the thoughtful silence. Especially in the wake of all the recent chaos. “I don’t expect her to mate this year. She’s getting older, I think the hatchlings might have been her last clutch.”

  Given they were now big enough for a child to ride, Sohmeng wasn’t sure they could really be called hatchlings at all anymore. “I can’t imagine how she held all of those little brats in her mouth. With the energy they’ve got, they must have been rocking against her freaking molars.”

  “Only two of them are hers. The other four are from other members of the colony. The young just tend to stick together, and they follow the alpha. Same as the rest of us.”

  “Only two?” Sohmeng frowned, considering. The colony was made up of a bit over a lunar cycle’s worth of adult sãoni—nearly thirty, by her count. Then there were the six hatchlings, or rather, adolescents, that tormented her on a daily basis. Mama had lost several eggs in her fight with Blacktooth, but she still had at least five in her cheeks. With clutches that size, there were comparatively few hatchlings in the colony. “But the number of eggs...”

  Hei nodded, following her train of thought. They wore that same sort of sad, inevitable look as they had back in the caves of Sodão Dangde. “Many of them don’t make it much past hatching. Some eggs don’t hatch at all. Sãoni are sturdy once they’re grown, but the early stages of their life are precarious. With all of the changes to their ecosystem, there’s a lot more stress on the colonies than there used to be. It’s hit their population hard.” They looked at Sohmeng then, their expression pointed enough that she pretty much knew what was coming before they even spoke. “All the more reason to make sure they’re safe right now.”

  “Ahn isn’t going to hurt them, Hei,” she said, exasperated.

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Uh, yeah, I can?” Sometimes she wished Hei could get a look at the colony from the outside. Their knowledge of the natural world was invaluable, but they didn’t always know what to do when confronted by more human perspectives. “He doesn’t stand a chance against a whole pack of sãoni, and if he moves against one, they’ll all attack. Honestly, if he blinks wrong they’ll attack. If he forgets to bury his—”

  “He took one down before. You saw it, back in the clearing. Him and his fire-sand,” they sneered, shaking their head.

  Sohmeng rubbed her face. She could feel the pressure of the moons here; typi
cal of the Sol phase to offer no assistance while begging her to deescalate. “Yes, Hei, I saw it, but if you could just—”

  Mama’s tail swung around, thwacking at their feet in warning. Ever the mediator, that one. Sohmeng sighed, rubbing cheeks with Hei, offering a few caring chirps that they slowly returned. This didn’t have to be a fight. “I see why you’re worried. But I still think we’re better off befriending Ahn than we are isolating him. I’m not saying we need to marry him and declare him lord of the freaking lizards, but how you act right now matters. If you treat him as a threat, so will the sãoni.”

  “And if he is a threat?” Hei asked sharply.

  “I don’t know, Hei, then the sãoni eat him! They eat him and I’m traumatized forever and it’s all fine!” The words made Sohmeng queasy, but they seemed to reach Hei. “But right now, I’d really appreciate it if we could act like we’re not on track for the worst-case scenario.”

  Hei tucked their knees to their chest, growling quietly. Even still, Sohmeng could see the way their expression softened.

  “Travelling together is a chance to learn more about Qiao Sidh,” she continued, “to plan for what comes next. Figuring out how to get the sãoni back on the migration route, repairing the Sky Bridge. There’s a lot to work out before we make it that far north.”

  “We don’t have a plan,” Hei said simply.

  Sohmeng’s stomach clenched. She couldn’t deny that it all sounded pretty half-baked; so much could go wrong between here and returning Ahn. But if she gave up now, failure was a guarantee rather than a possibility, and that was unacceptable.

  All around them, the sãoni were snoozing, somehow content despite the existential threat at their doorstep. Sohmeng couldn’t tell if it was comforting or frightening to watch. For all she had always longed to be taken seriously, it was intimidating to know that her choices here could impact so many other living creatures. Responsibility felt heavy instead of freeing; no wonder it had made such a nightmare of her brother.