Three Seeking Stars

by Avi Silver

  Viunwei. If she ever wanted to lord her look I’m alive you jerk over him, she had to find a way to make this work.

  “It’s messy,” Sohmeng admitted. “But it’s a start. And that start requires Ahn. When he sees that we aren’t planning on turning him into sãoni food, he’ll be a lot more likely to advocate for us when we get to his hmun. So... can you help me? Please? I just need you to be decent to him, show a little welcome.”

  After a long moment, Hei clicked in assent. “But I’m not biting him.”

  Sohmeng exhaled slowly. “Okay. That’s—I understand.”

  “And he needs to behave.” They took her hand, squeezing. “If he hurts the sãoni, or threatens you, or bothers me—”

  “Then we’ll work it out.”

  “We’ll work it out,” Hei repeated, pulling Sohmeng close. She let herself melt into the sensation of their strong body against the soft flesh on her sides. Hei was stubborn, sure, but they were also grounding. A mountain in their own right.

  “Sorry for pushing you before. About the biting thing. I should have backed off.”

  “Pushy, pushy,” Hei muttered, but Sohmeng could feel their smile as they rubbed their cheek against hers.

  On the other side of camp, she could see Ahn curled against a tree. Maybe she was just being idealistic, but he looked less threatening under the light of the moons. With a little patience and communication, there was no reason that everyone couldn’t be decent to each other. As she drifted off to sleep, she allowed herself to indulge in the pleasure of optimism.

  Ahn woke early, the memory of the arena heavy on the backs of his eyelids. It had been so long since he dreamed of Kørno Wan, of the packed sand and the white linen curtains, the heady scent of resin burning in the air. The eyes of his masters watching from the raised platform; the priests and priestesses singing the songs of the bilateral realms. Schenn, still apart from Ahn, wielding the blade with mastery. Ahn, still apart from Schenn, struggling to keep him back.

  The scream of a bird broke through the memory, piercing enough to shake him from the moment. This was not Qiao Sidh, this was not Kørno Wan. Ahn covered his face with his hands. The air was so humid here, so thick in his throat. It made it hard to breathe on mornings like this, when he woke restless.

  He had been still for too long. He had to move.

  Daylight had not yet fully broken through the canopy, and the ethereal glow of the bioluminescent moss was still visible. Cautiously, he lifted himself up, glancing at the still-sleeping forms of his captors, his rescuers. Sohmeng and Hei lay curled together against the colony’s alpha, surrounded by the rest of the sãoni. The image of peace, even in a place such as this.

  Ahn took up his sword. Quietly, he slipped from the camp and sought out a private copse of trees to still his mind in. Once he was sure he was alone—as alone as anything could be in a rainforest—he began.

  He started with the postures, an old routine from his school days, designed to bring bodily awareness before beginning more complex practice. The blade was light in Ahn’s hand, his feet sturdy on the ground. He stretched his body into the shape of the Mountain, the Bear, the Midwife. Breathe, he commanded himself, working through the Eagle, the Hunter, the Sun.

  His older sister Ólawen, just Óla back then, had put a wooden sword in his hand when he was three years old. He’d taken to it like it had been passed to him from the other realm. Perhaps it had, when he’d reincarnated last.

  The motions felt all wrong. He was unfocused, nearly bored—what right did he have to feel bored of what had soothed him for so many years? He sped up the choreography until it felt more like a dance, sharpened his footwork as though there were a partner for him to match. Heart rising up to meet his throat, he tugged at his earpiece.

  “Come on, Schenn,” he murmured. “You were always too good at this. You give me so little room to grow.”

  That had been the appeal of Qiao Sidhur’s famous Asgørindad University: the relief of starting from the bottom of one of the Paths. He had spent most of his life achieving the sixth rank of Conquest, with some dabbling in the Arts that had lifted him to the third rank. While his status granted him the privilege of exploring all of the Paths at some point, it had been a long time since he started something new.

  Philosophy had been an unexpected choice, one that his parents had met with substantial doubt. He had only just completed his Six-ing a few months ago—why would he stop now when his military career was just beginning? His argument had been shaky, but effective enough: there was always time to lead an army, always another war. And at nearly seventeen, he was the perfect age for university-level schooling. What was the harm? He could live with the common people, learn more about them. A prince for all Qiao Sidh. And Schenn—Schenn would like that, wouldn’t he? It would be respectful, given the boy’s low beginnings. It was a way for them to bond in their new situation, not everything had to be about mastering the arts of conquest. Most people never even made it to their Six-ing, most people—

  A faint pull in his earpiece made him stumble. He cupped his hand over his ear with a gasp.

  “Schenn?” he whispered, not daring to believe. “Schenn, is that—is that what you want? Tell me what you want.”

  Silence. Even a conjuring of the boy’s voice failed him. He cursed, stabbing his blade into the earth. It snagged on a root, left him feeling like a child throwing a tantrum. In these moments, the distance between them was unbearable. How much longer would it take before they finally reconnected, his masters had promised—

  The sound of wood snapping. Ahn turned around, a surge of what could have been either bloodlust or loneliness leaving him desperate for an opponent.

  What he found instead was Hei.

  They held the broken halves of a stick in each hand, watching him with the same critical eye as always. He wondered how long they had been there, deciding whether or not they would reveal themself to him. Such an enigma, with their dark looks and their animal language. Shame churned in his chest as they glanced at his sword, stuck out awkwardly from the ground.

  “Good morning,” he said, throat dry. Hei cocked an eyebrow at him, but made no move to respond. They were chewing on something.

  Wind jostled the canopy above, shifting the light. Golden rays were breaking through the morning haze, the only sign to Ahn that any time had passed at all.

  For a long moment, Hei said nothing. They tossed the broken stick aside, turning their gaze to the trees; even still, he could feel their focus locked on him. At last, they addressed him in a halting voice: “Not dead, yes?”

  “I—sorry?”

  “Seeing Ahn not dead.” They gestured impatiently to the forest around them. “Eiji. Make Ahn dead easy.”

  “Oh—” Had Hei been concerned for his safety? The idea left Ahn feeling out of his depth. He offered a bow of his head; back at Asgørindad, this show of deference had endeared him to the common people, shaped him as more of an equal. Hei appeared unmoved. “I am fine. Thank you. I was—practicing.”

  When they did not respond, he reached for his sword to illustrate his point. The moment it came loose from the earth, Hei leapt back, shoulders hunched defensively. Their lip was curled in a snarl, vivid eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  Ahn exhaled slowly. He’d assumed that his posture was non-threatening enough, but apparently he was wrong. He smiled as he sheathed the blade. Entreatingly, he offered his open palms to them. “I will not hurt you. Or your sãoni.”

  Hei spat in the dirt, scowling. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Sãoni. Not mine.”

  Ahn wasn’t sure what to make of this. Hei’s grasp on Dulpongpa only seemed to go as far as its similarities with Atengpa, and he was hardly fluent himself. Maybe there was a misunderstanding between them. Before he could ask for clarification, Hei started walking back toward the camp, leaving Ahn alone to wonder what had just happened.

  He rubbed his thumb over the sword’s pommel, watching them retreat through th
e forest. He tried to shake off the strange interaction, to return to practicing his forms—what would his sister say if he returned to the campaign looking sloppy? But each passing second seemed intent on working against him, until the sword felt impossibly heavy on his hip. Dread built and blossomed, muting the rainforest around him until he was blanketed in oppressive silence.

  When he decided to follow Hei, the crunch of the ground beneath his feet was profoundly soothing.

  They noticed him immediately, of course. Based on their expression, they hadn’t expected the company. That was fair enough—without Sohmeng there as intermediary, their conversational opportunities were limited. Still, Ahn figured it was worth it to try. Hei was different from most people he had met, but Ahn had attended plenty of dinners and balls in the past. He could do small talk.

  “So!” he said, “how long you have lived in Eiji?”

  They glanced over their shoulder, squinting at him. Despite Ahn’s struggles to keep up—the jungle floor seemed determined to break his ankles—they showed no sign of slowing down.

  “Or lived with, with sãoni? You are very skilled—” His elbow made contact with a fat mushroom on one of the trees. It burst immediately, releasing loose fluffy spores that made him sneeze.

  In a flash, Hei was at his side, dumping their water gourd over the floating fungus. The particles fell to the ground as Hei snarled something unintelligible. Ahn reddened; he didn’t need a shared language to know that had been a close call. He stepped back, trying to get out of the way. “Thank y—”

  Hei interrupted him with a loud shout, arm darting out to grab him by the ankle. Ahn hopped in place, bewildered, and looked down to see the tiny cluster of eggs he had nearly trampled. “...oh. Thank you, I—sorry. Sorry.”

  He wanted to explain that he wasn’t usually this much of a walking disaster. Back in Qiao Sidh, he didn’t have to worry about snakes in the river, or which pieces of firewood were full of stinging insects. It was the rainforest, not him! But he doubted Hei was interested in hearing it. They released their hold on him with a furious look, clicking and rubbing their forehead. Thoroughly chastised, Ahn didn’t complain when they grabbed him by the shirt and half-dragged him the rest of the way back to camp.

  Sohmeng was still asleep when they returned, as were most of the sãoni, who had not stirred much past the stage of drowsy rumbling. With a heavy sigh, Hei dropped down beside the stump where they had hidden their bags for the night and pulled out a few unfamiliar, brightly coloured fruits. They squeezed them, presumably testing for ripeness, and began the hard work of pretending that Ahn wasn’t there.

  Guilt twisted in his chest. He was so far out of his element, trapped with two people who had plenty of reasons to leave him to die. If he could make himself useful, his odds of survival would increase. And considering how far he had strayed from Qiao Sidh’s camp, the three of them might be stuck together for some time. It would be better, he decided, to ease some of the tension early on. To establish some sort of relationship with these new travelling companions.

  Of course it would be a little rocky. New friendships were rarely smooth at first, and this was more of an alliance, really. But all he could do was his best, and hope they would meet him halfway.

  Ahn took a breath, steeled himself, and sat down beside Hei, choosing not to take their alarmed squawk personally. He gestured to the fruit. “What is this?”

  Hei blinked at him warily.

  “The, the fruit—” Ahn reached for one, trying to clarify, and was met with a full-body hiss. He winced, lowering his hand and trying again, slower this time. “What is this fruit you have?”

  For a long, painful moment, they said nothing. Then, cautiously, they picked one up, dropping it into his lap. It was about the same size as a pear, but lighter to the touch. He bounced it in his hand with a smile. “Yes! This—what is it? What is...” He frowned. Repeating himself wasn’t going to get them very far. There had to be a better strategy.

  He cleared his throat, holding out the fruit and looking at it very seriously. “Hello, fruit,” he said in his most regal voice. “My name is Ahn. And you?”

  Hei stared at him, clicking very slowly.

  He held the fruit to his ear, leaning in like he was listening for a response. When the fruit said nothing, he held it out to Hei in mock concern. “Name?”

  For all that Hei was continuing to look at him like he was absolutely insane—which he might be, trying this out—they seemed to follow his question. “Saka,” they eventually said, cutting into their own fruit with their sãoni claw.

  “Saka,” he repeated, feeling the shape of the word in his mouth.

  “Saka,” Hei said once more, correcting his emphasis and popping a piece of the saka fruit’s flesh into their mouth. It looked delicious.

  Pleased with his success, Ahn gave both Hei and the fruit a cordial nod. “Pleased to meet you, Saka,” he said, and took a bite. For a second, Hei stopped eating, staring at him with wide eyes. He chewed on the tangy skin; a little tough, but tasty! After a beat, Hei simply sighed, shrugging to themself as they continued with their own breakfast.

  It wasn’t exactly a warm exchange, but it made Ahn brighten anyway. Maybe they were uncertain about him, but they had conceded to a meal together. It made him feel hopeful—many legendary alliances had begun at a banquet table. Around them, the sãoni woke one by one, stumbling through camp in such a way that even the most vicious of them seemed gentle. Sohmeng was just as slow to wake, pulling a large leaf over her eyes to block out the growing light. She had mentioned that she grew up inside a cave—it must have been an adjustment, coming into a world such as this. But she seemed happy enough.

  Despite all of his fears, Ahn was surprised to discover a hint of his own happiness this morning. He wanted nothing more than to return to his sister’s side, but that did not mean he had to spend every moment drenched in terror—what a lousy story that would make when he finally returned home. Generals weren’t supposed to cower and philosophers weren’t supposed to be closed-minded, and Ahn was meant to play both of those roles.

  So while it was true that he did not belong here, Ahn allowed himself to relax as much as he could manage. He finished his saka fruit and leaned back against the tree, settling in to watch the sun shift the colour of the world around him.

  The vomiting started about an hour later.

  When the morning began with the unmistakable sound of puking, the rest of the day didn’t look too promising. Sohmeng was crouched at the scene of the crime, holding back Ahn’s hair and doing her best not to lose her mind. When Hei had offered Sohmeng her own saka fruit, it hadn’t taken much to figure out what had happened.

  “You fed him the skin?!” Sohmeng hissed through gritted teeth. “Are you kidding me, Hei?”

  “I didn’t feed it to him,” they said calmly. “He bit the fruit himself. It is not my fault he didn’t realize it would make him sick.”

  “You could have told him! He’s not even from here!” One of the hatchlings was scurrying over to investigate the new treat Ahn had splattered onto the ground. Sohmeng grimaced, waving a free hand at Hei. “Hei, would you please—”

  “He didn’t ask.” Hei scooped up the hatchling, willing to be helpful on at least one front. “Besides, I don’t speak Dulpongpa.”

  “Godless—” Sohmeng rubbed Ahn’s back with a little more force, willing herself not to scream. Even if Hei hadn’t literally force fed him the saka, Sohmeng wasn’t naïve enough to think that they were innocent. “Tell me he didn’t eat more than one.” She turned to the sputtering Ahn, quickly swapping languages. “How many did you eat?”

  Ahn’s bronze skin had gone remarkably green-toned. He gagged, managing to hold up one finger before returning to fertilizing the soil. Poor guy. At least he wasn’t in danger of actually dying. Sohmeng patted him sympathetically, fixing Hei with her best impression of her brother’s Soh-how-could-you face. It seemed to work, as they had the decency to look at least a little les
s smug.

  Behind them, Mama let out a low bellow, shuffling forward curiously. She and the other sãoni tended to be more tolerant of Ahn when Sohmeng was near him, even more so when she touched his hair. They were naturally suspicious of the silver and black, which resembled the silvertongue plant that could kill them faster than Sohmeng could say it doesn’t smell like the plant though you idiots.

  Ahn groaned, leaning back against Sohmeng. His skin was clammy to the touch. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he said. “This is very...” He gave up on the word, saying it in his mother tongue with a defeated wave of his hand.

  “It’s not your fault,” Sohmeng insisted, pushing back his hair and reaching for the water gourd. Of course it was empty, as, apparently, was Hei’s. She passed him the spare, wishing they had stopped to fill it all the way the day before. “Just drink this, okay? We’ll get you more soon.”

  Leaves rained down on them as Mama sat against an enormous tree. Sohmeng wasn’t sure she’d seen the sãoni get this close to Ahn before; maybe that adoption habit was kicking in again. Having the alpha on their side would certainly make life easier for as long as Ahn remained with them. Then all they’d need to do is get Green Bites off his power trip.

  “...I think he’ll be okay,” Hei said, as though their opinion on the matter was the deciding factor.

  “I think you should go get some water and have a long think about the concept of hospitality,” Sohmeng retorted. “We’ll talk later.”

  They let out an irritable snarl but skulked off, leaving Sohmeng alone with Ahn and Mama, who was now patting the dirt near them with an inquisitive chirp. Further back, Green Bites was hissing quietly for good measure, apparently on Team Hei.

  Sohmeng looked at Ahn, sighing heavily. The gods hadn’t blessed her with any sort of nurturing instinct—scathing humour was much more her bag. But seeing as Ahn was still working on mastering the basics of Atengpa, she doubted her jokes would land right now.