by Avi Silver
Sohmeng stopped talking so quickly that she nearly choked on her words, pulling back from Hei to get a better look at the walls. They had served Nona Fahang faithfully for this long, hadn’t they? And mating season had spread the colony thinner than usual, and the scouts hardly ever touched the ground anyway. A bit of silvertongue would be an additional safety precaution, but it wasn’t entirely unfeasible. It would solve any immediate danger posed by the Qiao Sidhur, wouldn’t it?
“Sohmeng...?” Hei let out a wary Sãonipa growl. Given Sohmeng’s current thought process and slightly maniacal grin, it was more than warranted.
“Hei,” she said, nearly daunted by her own genius, “I have a really bad idea.”
Ahn never thought he would be grateful for a private moment with the sãoni. His first meeting with the creatures had been a fight for his life, a battle against an opponent he had never been trained against. After that, he was kept in a constant state of vigilance, expecting the colony to turn on him at any moment. But now, outside of the walls of Nona Fahang, the sounds of the alpha’s rumbling mostly meant he was at a safe distance from any other humans who wished him ill.
“Stay in our line of sight, tsongkar!” shouted one of the scouts from the canopy. Their neighbour shot out a comment in Fahangpa that made everyone laugh. The joke was lost on Ahn.
After Sohmeng managed to get her plan approved by the Grand Ones, Ahn’s new assignment had been explained at spearpoint in halting Dulpongpa: while Sohmeng was working with Nona Fahang’s leadership on the logistics of camping sãoni outside the walls, and Hei was retrieving any of the creatures that weren’t participating in mating season, Ahn would be on silvertongue duty, applying the plant to all of the weak points in Nona Fahang’s walls. If the animals happened to turn him into lunch, it was no real loss.
The few sãoni that had followed Mama were watching him closely with those big eerie eyes. Some of them were making threatening noises, but Ahn told himself it was just because of the sack of silvertongue he was carrying. Over the past few weeks, he had developed a certain fondness for the plant; without it, he probably wouldn’t be alive. That and his hair, mild embarrassment to the Imperial family though it was.
A loud whoop came from above as a heavy fruit smashed on the ground beside him, earning the attention of the sãoni and more laughs all around. Ahn grit his teeth. Not that he wanted to hurt the sãoni, but if the scouts were going to provoke the creatures, they could have at least given him a sword.
He was moving to tie the velvety leaves to more trees when another fruit dropped down, this time slamming into his arm and spraying juice everywhere. So much for the change of clothes he’d been given. He rolled out his shoulder with a wince.
“What, you don’t like your lunch?” taunted one of the scouts. “Open your mouth next time, it might taste better.”
Given the size of the melon they dropped next, Ahn imagined that he mostly would be tasting the remnants of his own teeth. Which was probably what they were getting at. Outside of his siblings’ sniping, which felt more political than personal, Ahn’s status had protected him from bullying for most of his life. So far, he wasn’t enjoying it.
He thought about trying to engage again, to do what he could to get on their good side. But the throbbing bruise Lita Soon had left on his cheek said the effort came with its own risks. Perhaps if he just did a good job here they would give him a break, and he could try to show them he wasn’t the person they thought he was.
Two more fruits dropped around him, agitating the sãoni and forcing Ahn to jump out of the way before he got knocked on the head. He looked up, trying to figure out where they were being thrown from, when a horrible noise came from behind him.
Three of the adolescent sãoni jumped at the branches. They couldn’t reach the humans above, but still they snapped and snarled, frightening the scouts into losing the rest of their fruit. Satisfied, the creatures ate through the smashed pulp on the ground.
Heart pounding, Ahn leaned back against the trees and smiled weakly at the sãoni. Then he saw Hei, slinking up behind them and looking disapprovingly at the scouts above. Had they set the sãoni on them?
“Hei—” Their name was out of his mouth before he could remember how much they also didn’t like him. He gripped the bag of silvertongue tighter, losing whatever he was going to say when their green eyes locked on him. “...hello.”
They nodded what amounted to a greeting and turned their attention to Mama and her hatchlings. The little lizards were wiggling up a storm squeaking at Ahn. He felt bad; they clearly wanted his attention, but the smell of the silvertongue was repellant. Once he was done and had his hands washed, maybe he would be allowed to go hold them. Apparently his people-pleasing now extended across species.
After a moment of trying to calm the hatchlings, Hei sighed heavily and trudged over to Ahn.
One of the scouts took a break from arguing about the ruined food long enough to notice. “Hey!” they yelled. “You! He has to stay here!”
Hei ignored them entirely, stuffing their hand into his bag and pulling out the silvertongue with a look of distaste. They seemed to have spent enough time with the sãoni that they were put off by the plant by association.
“I’m talking to you,” the scout continued, thumping their spear once against the branches.
Ahn looked up at them, clearing his throat and doing his best to sound amicable. “They don’t speak Dulpongpa very well.”
“Then tell them what I said!”
“I don’t—I don’t speak Atengpa, either.” He paused. “Or Sãonipa.”
“São—” The scout stopped themself, rubbing their temples. It looked like a few of the others had gone back to the village for more fruit. “If you bolt, we have our orders. Remember that, tsongkar.”
Ahn nodded, continued tying the leaves. The young sãoni had finished the fallen fruit and were now exploring the clearing, snuffling for any bits they might have missed. Mama growled something at them, but they refused to settle down.
“Tsongkar.” To Ahn’s surprise, the word came from Hei. They muttered to themself irritably, tying off the leaves they had taken. “Tsongkar, hãokar. All same. Kar, kar, kar.” They spat into the earth.
Ahn had absolutely no idea what they meant, but for once it didn’t seem like they were mad at him. He worked on his own silvertongue, listening to the calls of the sãoni and not daring to say a word that might interrupt the tentative peace between them.
Despite his claims, Ahn had to wonder how much Dulpongpa Hei actually followed. He had a feeling that they listened to a lot more than they let on, used their quiet as a way to follow the rest of the world more closely. Even with Sohmeng, they weren’t a creature of many words.
“Kar, kar, kar,” Hei mumbled again, making a sãoni noise of frustration. Mama squawked in concern, but they countered it with a sound that Ahn assumed was supposed to be reassuring. It was remarkable to watch.
“You are very clever—” he began, then stopped when their eyes narrowed at the word. Perhaps they didn’t understand. “Skilled—” Not quite. “...familiar, with the sãoni.”
Hei kept their eyes away from him, hands busy with the silvertongue. “Familiar? Yes. They are family.”
Ahn smiled at the way they spoke, like this was the most obvious thing in the world and he was foolish to question it, nevermind pay them a compliment. Sohmeng was brazen with him in a way that reminded him nearly of Schenn, but Hei was different. They made it clear that they didn’t need him, or need to like him. And, absurdly, that made him determined to be liked by them.
Beyond his impact on the ecosystem, Hei didn’t care who he was or where he was from, which meant the only thing they could judge him on was his character. Their frankness made him want to be his best self, and to see if he was worth being liked, or disliked, for exactly who he was.
Hei let out a small, threatening growl; Ahn reddened, realizing he had been staring. He started to sputter an apology, but Hei had alr
eady stepped close to him. They lifted one of their clawed fingers and, more gently than he could have imagined, tapped the bruise on his cheek. Despite himself, he flinched.
They jerked their chin in the direction of the scouts. “They do this?”
“Yes,” Ahn said, inexplicable hesitation in his voice. “They did.”
“You did wrong?” Hei’s eyes scanned the rest of him, seeking any other injuries.
“I think so,” Ahn said softly. For a moment, their gaze caught; the hungry snag of a thorn on an old winter cloak. It tore at him a little when they broke away to return to their task, saying nothing else.
Silence stretched between them, louder than the chatter that came from above, louder even than the sãoni in the clearing. Ahn turned his focus to looping silvertongue into knots around the banyan branches. It felt more like decoration than defense.
“Ahnschen,” Hei said, tying a leaf to a high branch. It was the first time they had ever used his name.
“Yes?”
“Sohmeng likes you. I do not like you.” Hei spoke the words firmly, yanking on their leaf with a little more force than necessary. They reached into his bag, pulling out more of the silvertongue, offering him one more cursory glance. “But I will not hit you.”
“Only poison me?” he asked, unable to hold back a grin.
Hei’s eyes went the size of pastry trays. Ahn wasn’t sure which of them squawked louder.
“Wait, no—” He put his hands in the air, trying to shake away his ridiculous comment. “It was, I mean—it’s a joke! I was making a joke, it’s okay!”
“...oh.” Hei clicked cautiously, rubbing at their nose. If Ahn didn’t know better, he’d think they were embarrassed. “Bad at jokes.”
“Me too, it seems,” he replied with a small smile.
Hei sighed loudly. “Bad at many things, Ahnschen.” He couldn’t argue that, even if it was strange to hear someone say it so directly. They rested a hand on the tree in front of them, thumbing the thin, papery bark with a pensive expression on their charcoal-smeared face. “But good, too.”
“Pardon?” Ahn asked.
“Good too, Ahnschen,” Hei repeated, looking at him with resignation that was nearly companionable. He had no idea what to make of such a look. “Sohmeng likes you. Be good. Okay?”
The limits of their shared language made it impossible for him to ask for further clarification. And even if they could understand each other more clearly, he had a feeling that Hei wasn’t interested in offering anything more than what they believed was necessary.
They clicked at him with a tilt of their chin, waiting.
“Okay,” he said, nodding a little. Somehow, it was enough for Hei. They chirped, satisfied, and left to wash their hands and return to the sãoni. Their arm brushed his as they walked past; a small concession to his presence, or else a peace offering.
Be good.
Ahn had been trying to do this for his whole life. Back home, it meant something entirely different—being good at something was simply a stepping stone to becoming the best at it. Whatever path he walked, there was no doing it halfway if he wanted to bring pride to his family. That was the cultural expectation of Qiao Sidh: step into the legends that will follow you through death and life again.
How naïve he’d been. A prince of the Empire, oblivious to the knowledge that greatness came with consequences far beyond himself. Now, as he began to face them, a new question arose: what did it mean to be good, or at least to simply be better, in a place so different from home? Beyond that, what did it mean to be good without being good at something?
It made a novice of him. But one thing was clear: for the sake of a kind word from Hei, Sohmeng’s hand on his back, the forgiveness of strangers, Schenn’s voice in his ear... he could try to figure it out. He could learn again. That much, at least, remained the same.
Despite the countless ways in which Sohmeng’s plan could have gone immediately and dramatically wrong, the sãoni were settling well outside Nona Fahang. The silvertongue prevented them from getting too close to the walls, Mama found a cozy tree to scratch her back on, and Ahn had even come up with a brilliant feeding plan. Once a day, the scouts dropped food scraps, keeping the colony content as they became more accustomed to human presence.
Hei had been wary of the idea, at first. They didn’t like humans getting too close to the sãoni, and made sure Sohmeng passed the scouts a list of things the creatures could not stomach. Luckily, the list was very short, and the relationship seemed on course to being mutualistic.
All was well outside of the hmun. Inside was a different story.
Problem-solving challenged Sohmeng, but it also made her feel in her element. But now, sitting at a dinner table with her father’s new family, all she felt was out of place. Bubbly Jaea Won and statuesque Pimchuang Ker sat on opposite ends of the table, passing food back and forth as Eakang Minhal tickled baby Kuei Fua, who was squirming in Tonão’s lap. Everyone had their own stools, including Tonão. Sohmeng had needed to borrow one from the neighbours; it felt stiff beneath her as she watched him coo over Kuei. Being the youngest child in her family, she had never before seen this baby-bouncing incarnation of her father. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
The table had been filled with a whole variety of sliced fruit and steamed buns, along with a dark, spicy spread that she didn’t have a name for. It had surprised her to learn that communal meals only happened during holidays here, that families took their suppers together privately. Instead of having the space to mingle and work out what she was feeling, Sohmeng was locked in proximity to these new people.
“Do you want—” Pimchuang gestured to Tonão, who took over translating her words into Dulpongpa, “—tea, or would you prefer juice?”
“Tea’s fine,” Sohmeng said, ignoring a phantom sting in her hand as she watched Pimchuang pour. The woman was taller than Tonão by a couple finger lengths, long-legged and flat-chested, with a curve to her brow that gave her the appearance of constant consideration. Or maybe she was just sizing up Sohmeng.
Meanwhile, Jaea Won smiled excitedly at her, chattering at Tonão in Fahangpa. She was round as Sohmeng, with the same bright eyes as Eakang and a clear, ringing voice that Tonão rapidly translated. He’d barely gotten a bite of food in.
“Please, eat something!” Jaea exclaimed, gesturing to the table. “You’ve never had cooking like Pim’s, I’m sure. It’s even good enough for our picky little Kuei Fua—oh, darling please let go of your Damdão’s hair—” The translation cut out for a moment as Tonão laughed, passing off the baby to Jaea. “And I heard you’ve already met Eakang Minhal?”
“Not—not formally, exactly,” Sohmeng said haltingly. She could feel their eyes on her like a blackfly buzzing around her ear. “Just outside of the walls.” And when they barged into her conversation with her father.
“Then let’s introduce you both properly,” Tonão said. He sat between her and Eakang. “Sohmeng, this is Eakang Minhal. Being Kuei’s sibling, they’ve become very much a stepchild to me. Eakang...” He looked at them with the kind of smile that said this was an important moment for both of them, something they must have talked about before. Some special old story, come suddenly to life after nearly four years of hearing it told. Sohmeng clenched her fists. “This is my daughter, Sohmeng P—”
“Minhal.”
The word was out before Sohmeng fully registered having made the choice to say it.
The energy in the room seemed to contract. Pimchuang’s gaze turned to Tonão, sympathetic but unsurprised. It was like Sohmeng thought, then: these people already knew about her. At the very least, Jaea and Pim did. Eakang looked ready to launch through the roof.
“Sohmeng Minhal,” Tonão said, voice wavering. She wondered when the last time was that he had said her gods-given name aloud, admitted to the truth of who and what she was—
No. This was getting to be too much. She wasn’t going to get into this here, in front of these strangers. If
Minhals were allowed to exist in Nona Fahang, then that’s what she’d do. Exist. No need to harp on the past. “It’s nice to meet you all,” she said in Dulpongpa. “Thank you for taking care of my father.”
The meal was delicious, the people were fine. She learned about their lives and listened to their stories, picking at the food with a tight stomach. Pimchuang aided in organizing communal festivals; Jaea was involved with banyan maintenance. One time, Jaea looked away from Kuei for just one second, and he had climbed a tree. And Eakang? They were Minhal. Just like her.
“Have you seen your father’s weaving yet, Sohmeng?” Jaea asked, squeezing the man’s shoulder. “He’s made some beautiful things, especially this past year!”
Since when did her father weave? He’d never shown any interest back in Ateng. “Not yet, no.”
“Jaea, please.” Tonão looked almost bashful, but Sohmeng could spot the pride in his expression. The joy. Given everything he had gone through, it surprised Sohmeng to see how easily he smiled here. There was a rhythm to this home, a natural way of life that left Sohmeng feeling smaller and smaller as the night progressed.
It had been a while since she was surrounded by so many humans; maybe she had forgotten how to engage with them. Granted, she had spent most of her time in Ateng being chastised, but it was a role she had learned to fill. Here, she didn’t even speak the hmunpa. She felt more sãoni than human.
The next day, Tonão accompanied her to the Grand Ones, where she self-consciously announced her new phase name. They took the change easily, gracefully; the worst of it was the pitying looks some of them gave her. And just like that, she was back in the community as Sohmeng Minhal, no questions asked.
