by Avi Silver
From then on they were up and down his legs, nestled in his chestplate, even chewing on his hair. After a few frightening moments of squawking, the rest of the colony seemed to realize that it wasn’t actually poison.
Lucky for him, they also appeared to have lost most interest in eating him. This was in no small part due to Mama’s warmth toward his new role as resident governess for young lizards. He doubted they would be very receptive to the etiquette lessons he’d received in the Winter Palace at Hvallánzhou.
“Wait wait wait,” Sohmeng said, laughing as he tried to explain the concept to her. It wasn’t translating very well. “You had to get lessons on how not to behave like a meathead? What kind of a kid were you Ahn?”
“No! I was fine, very well-behaved—”
“Oh sure, me too,” Sohmeng said, interrupting him with a cackle.
Even Hei seemed to be smiling along. They had been more tolerant of his presence lately. The wariness hadn’t fully gone away, especially when he was holding the hatchlings, but they acknowledged his presence with a nod or a hum, and didn’t play any more tricks on him. He was grateful to have stumbled into a truce.
“Okay, but seriously,” Sohmeng started again. “You were taught how to... eat and talk?” She was trying not to snicker at him too openly. He was reminded of Schenn, mocking his Imperial accent and unwavering politeness.
“And other social skills,” he replied with a nod.
“Couldn’t you just learn from watching people? Like... no screaming in public unless something bad is happening? Or like, oh hey look no one is burping in their neighbour’s face, better not do that either? This seems like basic sense, Ahnschen.”
He laughed, holding tighter onto her as the sãoni went over a bump. Sohmeng had a funny way of saying things. “This learning—lessons, the lessons were more...” He shook his head, trying to figure out how to interpret the concepts of class and nobility. “Bigger. Not everyone needs them. But I did.”
“Because you’re a meathead,” Sohmeng said sagely. She turned to Hei, quickly translating the conversation.
“No,” Ahn said. “Because I’m a prince.”
Sohmeng’s translation abruptly stopped. “Wait, what?”
Maybe he should have mentioned this sooner; as the weeks had passed, it had become more awkward to imagine slipping it into conversation. He cleared his throat, trying to act casual about the whole thing. “I’m the Eleventh Prince of Qiao Sidh.”
“WHAT—”
Singing Violet nearly veered into Green Bites as Sohmeng gave an involuntary yank on her head spines. For a moment all reptilian chaos broke out. Hei, who was nearly standing on Green Bites at this point, shot Ahn an accusatory look, shouting at Sohmeng, “Pay attention!”
But Sohmeng was undeterred, only pausing to offer her sãoni a consoling pat and squawk before looking over her shoulder at Ahn. Her expression was akin to a hostage situation.
“Okay,” she said, narrowing her dark eyes at him. “One more time for the lizards in the back. You’re a prince?”
“Yes?” he replied with a timid smile. “Eleventh born.”
Hei whistled. Apparently numbers translated similarly in Dulpongpa and Atengpa.
Sohmeng was spluttering, throwing her hands in the air. Ahn reached forward, trying to hold onto Singing Violet himself. “A prince. A godless prince. Why didn’t you tell us?!”
“It’s... in my name?” he offered unhelpfully. “Éongrir is the name of the Imperial family.”
“I’m not from Qiao Sidh, Ahn.”
“...Eløndham?” he tried. “It translates to Eleventh Beloved—”
“Oh, obviously! Because I speak Qiao Sidhur!” she exclaimed, jabbing him with her elbow. Where the rest of her body was beautifully soft, those particular bones were painfully pointy. And she used them liberally. “Give up on social school, Ahn. You’re unteachable.”
In a place with entirely different cultural rules, that was probably true. Funny, how all his years of etiquette school amounted to pretty much nothing down in the jungles of the Untilled. Even his martial skills were of limited use when there was no real war to fight. Oddly enough, his time in academia on the Philosophy path seemed to be the only thing getting him through his daily helpings of culture shock. Asgørindad University was where he’d learned how to engage with people outside of social scripts. It was where he’d learned to put his wonder to good use, and how to reach all of the people he might one day be ruling. Unlikely. But possible.
“This is so wild!” Sohmeng continued. “I didn’t know royalty even existed anymore—I’ve only heard about princes and stuff in the old stories. We haven’t done anything like that here in thousands of years.”
Ahn wasn’t sure what to say to that. Perhaps he should have known—there had been a translation for his title up in Kongkempei, which meant they had the concept. A few of the Grand Ones had laughed when his sister explained that Ahn, young though he was, should be treated with as much deference as they.
“Why are you here?” To Ahn’s surprise, the question had come from Hei, and it wasn’t entirely hostile in tone.
“I...” He hesitated. The core of Hei’s question was not an unfamiliar one, rich with many contexts: his new roommates at Asgørindad, gawking at him as he stood alone in the doorway to their apartment after he’d left his bags in the middle of the street, expecting a valet; Master Hvu, complaining that his signet ring was interfering with his harp playing; Schenn, lying back to back with him in their small cot, neither of them able to sleep; the Third Prince to the Empire, his brother, staring at him with open contempt on his sixth birthday.
Why are you here?
“It was a gift,” Ahn said. He shifted in his seat, carefully adjusting his hold on Sohmeng. “I spent most of my life training in one of the, the...” Very little of his Dulpongpa vocabulary had prepared him for translating the cultural touchstone that was the Qiao Sidhur Paths of Mastery. He winced, unsure if it was worth it to try. “I am sorry. The words are...”
“We have time!” Sohmeng said encouragingly with a pat on his arm. “Go slow. Let’s figure it out.”
It took the better part of the afternoon to work through the translation together. Trial and error, translations from Qiao Sidhur to Dulpongpa to Atengpa—even snippets of the sãoni language were used to express emphasis. Even though he knew the animals around him were simply responding to Hei’s noises, it was indescribably strange to feel as though they were being included in the discussion.
Soon the land around them was changing: the trees grew taller and thicker, and where the understory had once been decorated by hanging vines, sturdy branches now reached out like arms, twisting and gnarling into one other like the web of some impossibly large spider. Sunlight shone through in bold pockets, lighting up copper-haired marsupials that whistled high above. The sãoni’s eyes followed them hungrily, but none broke from the travelling pack for as long as Mama was intent on moving forward. As far as generals went, Ahn had seen few better.
By the time they were passing around bananas to share for an afternoon snack, the three of them had found halfway decent translations of the nine Paths of Mastery: Conquest, Discernment, Health, Aesthetic, Arts, Philosophy, Advancement, Fertility, and Spirit. Originally named by philosopher Tseir Jin Zhadh as the essentials of a culture, these paths had been reinterpreted as the nine key ways to advance the Empire. To dedicate oneself to a path was to be in service to the expansion of Qiao Sidh.
“Each path has ten ranks,” Ahn explained. “The higher your number, the greater your achievement.” Each rank was harder to achieve than the last, with the tenth only awarded posthumously. Most people were fortunate if they even made it to rank seven in one of their lifetime’s paths; anything higher added a certain degree of celebrity. “We include our ranking in our names, so everyone will know...” He paused. The concept struck him differently in translation, left him feeling uncentered and exposed. “How far we have come. Or, how hard we have worked. H
ow to show respect.”
“And you choose these paths?” Sohmeng asked, tossing a banana peel to Green Bites. The sound of two sets of teeth snapping echoed through the woods, making Ahn’s arm throb in memory.
“We do, yes,” he said.
“Huh.” Sohmeng wiggled closer to him, thoughtful, and Ahn glanced at Hei, uncertain of where to put his hands. He had always been a very affectionate person, happiest when in close company with others—though the less educated around him often couldn’t reconcile that with his asexuality. Considering some of the trouble he’d had explaining it to his own peers, he wasn’t sure where to begin with people from an entirely different culture. Would bringing it up be inappropriate? It wasn’t really their business, but given his close proximity to Sohmeng and the nature of her and Hei’s relationship and all of the tension—
Hei let out a sharp whistle, shaking him from the thought. They looked at him expectantly, glancing to Sohmeng, and for one terrifying moment Ahn wondered if he had been thinking aloud.
“Ahn?” Sohmeng said, nudging him. “Still awake?”
“Yes,” he replied a little too quickly. “Sorry. Translating is very...” He waved his hand around, trying to show how scatterbrained he was. It wasn’t completely a lie; working to integrate all of those new words so rapidly into conversation was a headache.
With no warning, Hei tossed a gourd of water to him. Were it not for his reflexes, he would have been clubbed in the head and knocked off the sãoni; he offered a weak smile anyway. It had probably been a friendly gesture.
“I was just wondering if anyone has ever mastered all the Paths! Like just really went for it and beat the whole system?” For someone who had just learned about the Paths today, Sohmeng sounded eager to give it a try herself. Ahn couldn’t help but smile, glad to hear the way that desire seemed to be universal. It made home feel less far away.
“Shengdhru Allateinn. A legend—a hero. No one else. But many people balance two or three paths in their lives.” In fact, it was crucial for certain vocations. Health and Advancement were vital for surgeons, and Ahn had never met a courtesan who didn’t at least rank in Discernment, Aesthetic, and Arts.
Having grown up in the royal family, Ahn himself had achieved a preliminary first rank in all of the Paths before he was eight years old. During that time, he had learned very quickly which Paths he was naturally suited to, and which he would be wise to leave alone. Such choice was a privilege that came with his status; it made him uncomfortable to think about for too long, though he couldn’t articulate why.
“So...” Sohmeng said, looking back at him expectantly.
Ahn blinked, unsure what she was waiting for. He glanced over at Hei for a hint, but their eyes were on the low canopy of trees. A frown creased their brow, then disappeared before he could follow their gaze.
“What about you?” Sohmeng asked, audacious as ever. “What’s your path?”
Wouldn’t we all like to know, Ahn thought, feeling the weight of Schenn’s knucklebone nudging against his jaw.
“Conquest,” he said carefully, “is where I have spent most of my life. But I took a break after I achieved sixth ranking.”
Neither Hei nor Sohmeng nor the sãoni were remotely scandalized. Why would they be? They had no reference point for what a big deal that was. He wasn’t even fully sure that “conquest” was being translated properly—he had thought it wise to minimize the brutality that often went into the process. So of course Hei and Sohmeng had no idea what a Six-ing entailed, what achieving that rank had cost him.
“I took a break,” he repeated, nearly dizzy with the dissonance of his words and their non-reactions, “and returned to my path in Arts. I also started Philosophy. Now I rank third in Arts and second in Philosophy. That’s part of my name—Sølshendasá, Siengunghvøs.” Listing these achievements should have made him proud; it always had when he heard his name announced at formal gatherings. But this time, it brought up something young in him, the terror of receiving praise and being given opportunity, the secret certainty that he was undeserving. He squeezed his legs on Singing Violet, steadying himself as she lumbered over a log. “I was working on those paths when my parents surprised me for my birthday. They gifted me a role in this campaign with my sister.”
“And that’s how you got here,” Sohmeng said, nodding to herself.
Ahn wondered if she would say more about it, if she would ask questions that would lead to difficult answers. He wasn’t much of a liar, but he also had the sense to know that explaining what happened in Kongkempei might ruin his chances of getting back home in one piece. It brought up a vague feeling of guilt, but Sohmeng did not ask further, and Ahn did not volunteer.
Hei took a different approach, speaking a single word: “Conquest.” One of the most sacred parts of Ahn’s identity, made sinister by their tongue. They looked at him with those piercing green eyes, unflinching. Ahn couldn’t hold their gaze; his stomach felt weighted to the ground.
He looked to the land for distraction, but found that the branches that webbed above him made the sky feel tighter. The trunks served as pillars, spread out in artful intervals. Not far to his right, trees clustered closer together, appearing as one tangled mass. Mama lifted her nose, letting out a low rumble.
“Did you want it?” Sohmeng asked. “The campaign.”
Ahn shrugged. “It was a choice.” A choice that had led him miles and miles from home, unsure of how he would ever make his way back to his family, back to the university where he had begun to feel like himself again. A choice that forced him into actions he didn’t like to think about. “I cannot take it back now.”
Singing Violet lurched then, coming suddenly to a halt. The rest of the colony stopped alongside her, staying just behind Mama. Noise replaced motion, and soon all Ahn could hear was clicking and growling. Hei made a few clicks of their own, guiding Green Bites closer to him and Sohmeng.
“What is it?” Sohmeng asked, stroking Singing Violet.
Hei shook their head, pulling up their hood. Ahn could feel Sohmeng exhale against him; her back was tense against his chest. He gave her a squeeze that he hoped was reassuring and, cautiously, moved one hand to rest on the hilt of his sword. The jungle was full of dangers, but even still, it troubled him to imagine what could disturb predators like the sãoni.
He looked closer at the tight cluster of trees ahead of them, thick and unbreakable as any stone wall. Ahn had never seen anything like it, but where he would have once simply been curious, he now felt unease. Something was strange; something was wrong. Hei slipped off Green Bites, eyes on the ground as they searched for tracks.
“Godless night.”
Sohmeng was the only one who thought to look up. She whacked Ahn in the thigh, clicking to get Hei’s attention as she pointed.
Two humans were crouched in the canopy of branches, camouflaged and silent. Ahn scanned the trees, looking for more. How long had they been tracked for?
“Enemies?” he murmured. He gripped his sword tighter, slowing his breathing the way his masters had taught him. Hei clicked, crouching low to the ground.
Sohmeng grabbed Ahn’s wrist. “Not unless you act like a meathead.” As her eyes followed the humans in the trees, Ahn could see her trying to form a plan. He was about to suggest a hasty retreat when something changed in her expression. “Trust me, okay?”
Before he could ask for clarification, she dismounted Singing Violet. She strode past Hei with her jaw set, waving her arms at the strangers above. Ahn took one look at Hei and knew they were as uncertain about this as he was; even still, he did his best to remain steady and trust this girl who had already saved him once from death.
“Hey! Hi, hello!” Sohmeng called in Dulpongpa. “You, up in the trees!”
A spear landed at her feet with a heavy thunk. Ahn reached once more for his sword at the same moment Hei rose with a snarl, but Sohmeng held up a firm hand to stop them both.
“Kind of rude!” she shouted. Ahn could see her
hands shaking, even if her voice remained calm. “I’m just trying to talk to you.”
This time, a voice called down in response. “Not a step closer, stranger. What is your business? Why have you brought this danger to our door?”
Sohmeng had the audacity to smile. “No danger, swear on my grandmother. Look, I know this looks weird, but I’m going to need you to bring me to your Grand Ones, or whoever’s in charge here. It’s about the hmun network—and about your neighbours in Ateng. Trust me, you’re going to want to hear this.”
Even at spearpoint, Sohmeng could not believe her good luck.
Stumbling into a hmun had been unexpected, but it raised opportunities galore. So much was broken in Eiji, and now she didn’t have to face it alone. Despite the confidence she projected, Sohmeng had to admit that she’d felt in over her head since climbing Sodão Dangde. And as much as she wanted to believe she could personally fix the Sky Bridge and facilitate a conversation with Ahn’s people, things suddenly seemed a lot more realistic with the support of another hmun.
After a good deal of back-and-forth, the scouts agreed to come down and talk properly once the sãoni were herded to a safe distance. Now she just had to work out the logistics with Ahn and Hei.
“It’ll just be for tonight,” Sohmeng insisted. “I’ll go inside, fill the Grand Ones in about Ateng, and see what they can do to help. We’ll be moving again by tomorrow.”
Hei stood at Mama’s side, clicking warily at the figures moving above. Around them, the sãoni were growling and shuffling. “Tomorrow,” they repeated.
“I’ll be back in the morning before the sãoni are even awake.”
Ahn cleared his throat. Strangely enough, he looked more doubtful even than Hei. “It might be wise to continue on our way. How do you know that the Grand Ones will help you?”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Sohmeng asked. “We’re all part of the same network, even if we live far away from each other! We share ancestors and stuff.”
