Three Seeking Stars

by Avi Silver

  Ahn faced the accusation with as much poise as he could manage, but the truth shone through on his face.

  “That’s what I thought,” Lita said. “Of course you don’t remember me. But I remember you—how could I forget the face of the prince? The spoiled little boy whose people burned down my home. I saw you run away that night—your sister butchered my neighbours, and you fled on your beast.”

  “I—” Ahn’s voice caught. When he spoke, the words sounded weak even to his ears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  “How dare you.” The man laughed, furious. “You were there. You were there, and you did nothing to stop it, and now you try to pretend you feel remorse? You try to placate me?” Ahn’s eyes went to the scar on Lita’s face, a mark of the pain that marred each of their interactions. “You want to make it right, Éongrir? Here—”

  The man switched abruptly into words Ahn didn’t know. He winced, saying nothing.

  “Well?” Lita pushed. “How about it?”

  “I don’t—I don’t understand.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “I don’t speak Fahangpa.”

  Lita barked out another harsh laugh. “That was Kongkempeipa, tsongkar. Going on about how you want to fix things when you can’t even tell the difference.”

  Ahn closed his eyes for a moment, his chest tight with embarrassment—no, with shame. Even now, he was struggling against the instinct to defend himself, to insist that these acts of violence had not been his doing. He did not start the feuding that had apparently been working its way through the rainforest. And his relation to Ólawen did not mean he had any say over her orders—though he was desperate to try and understand them, to know why she would move so brutally on these people who were just trying to live their lives.

  But he had been there, and he had done nothing. That much was true. He felt nauseous, unable to face the pain he had caused.

  He crouched down, picking up the viscera on the ground and throwing it into the buckets. When it was all tidied and his hands were slick and foul, he hoisted the pole back onto his shoulders. “I’m going to bring this to the sãoni,” he said quietly.

  “Run and I’ll kill you,” Lita said. “I have my orders.”

  Ahn gripped the pole tightly; his voice was harsh to his ears. “Where I am from, we do not announce our orders. We simply act on them. So kill me already or save your breath.” Before the man could respond, Ahn turned on his heel and walked. Some frantic thing in him braced for the sensation of the spear through his back, skewering him like fresh fruit. But it never came.

  Éongrir Ahnschen walked out of Nona Fahang in a fog, vaguely hearing the whispering around him, feeling the creeping press of strangers’ eyes. As he passed into the sãoni’s territory, he was struck with a peculiar disappointment to find himself whole. It would have been easier, he thought, to face the spear. Easier than another stretch of days with the loathing, the dread.

  This wasn’t how he was supposed to feel, was it?

  He dropped the buckets of carnage at the sãoni’s many feet, reminding himself to step back when they lunged in to feed. A few of them growled at him suspiciously, but a low rumble from the alpha settled it down quickly enough. A soft pressure scrabbled up his legs, his torso—the hatchlings had come to see him again. They gummed at his fingers, cleaning up the worst of the filth that had layered on his skin. Their nubby teeth poked at him, but it didn’t matter so long as the blood was gone. He couldn’t stand the stickiness on his knuckles, the way it creased and cracked, the way the priestess’s sponges had chafed at his skin and the healer’s sinew had pulled so tightly at his chest—

  “Ahn?”

  The sound of his name was like a punch, forcing him back into the moment. The hatchlings were squeaking at him for more food. How had he not heard them?

  Sohmeng and Hei were sitting together by Mama, a dirt map scratched out in front of them. He must have missed them when he walked out here. Sohmeng was frowning. “You okay?”

  Ahn’s mouth twitched into a smile. “I’m fine.”

  Sohmeng didn’t bother to hide her skepticism, but she didn’t push. “You want some water for your hands?” She passed him a gourd before he could reply and he accepted out of reflex. His body did not feel like his own. “How did they even get so dirty?”

  “I was careless.” He did his best to wash off all that the hatchlings had not licked away. “Please don’t let me interrupt you. I just needed a moment.”

  “Um, sure.” She was quiet a beat longer, obviously leaving space for him to talk in case he changed his mind. Even Hei was quiet, their gaze flickering over him.

  When Ahn turned his attention back to the hatchlings, scratching their chins and adjusting their claws on his bare arms, Sohmeng and Hei went back to their conversation. From what he could see, they were talking over the map, likely discussing the migration route again. He wondered where they would go next, once they were rid of him. Wondered what would be left of their route, if his sister was apparently on a warpath.

  When he thought about it, Ahn couldn’t deny that things had been tense when they first landed in Kongkempei. That wasn’t entirely a surprise; Conquest was often met with struggle early on. The hmun was wary of Qiao Sidhur presence, having heard about the previous invasions four years back, the multiple attempts to set up colonies in the lower continent. Those attempts had been unsuccessful; between the sãoni, the insects, the illness, and the terrain, most of the soldiers who survived the first journeys called the land uninhabitable. But after encountering the native peoples, the conquering general determined that it must be possible to claim the Untilled as Qiao Sidh had claimed the upper continent. They would improve it, even.

  After that general died of dysentery, Ólawen took up the work with her father the Emperor’s blessing. This time, they would not move carelessly. This time, they would study all they had learned of the land, form alliances with the people who dwelled there. They would expand gradually, aiming for peaceful annexation whenever possible to counter the unforgiving ecosystem. Perhaps they would build a road.

  Ahn sat hard on the ground, choking on a bitter laugh.

  Schenn had come through earlier, Ahn swore it had happened. That was three times now, three times since landing in the Untilled. Three more times than Ahn had ever heard him back in Qiao Sidh.

  Run.

  There are cracks in the road.

  You’re scaring him.

  He rolled the rounded end of the bone between his fingers; it was smooth against the stretched hole in his ear, but it did not soothe him. In Kørno Wan, his masters had promised the students that their partners would be able to speak to them after death. They would pass messages from the bilateral realm, and the grief of their Six-ings would transform into a new kind of connection.

  Ahn didn’t feel connected. Ahn felt afraid.

  Had he truly accessed Schenn’s voice, or was it simply Ahn’s best impression of the boy, mimicked under stress? Had something gone wrong during their Six-ing, was that why things were so quiet? Or was Schenn just angry with him? If his Conquest masters were wrong about expanding the Empire, if invasion was never a kindness, what were his Spirit masters wrong about? How deep were the failings of his culture?

  Darkness rose in Ahn’s chest, suffocating him from the inside. Help me, Schenn, he silently pled. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I’ve done.

  He pressed his forehead into his knees. Both he and Schenn had consented to their Six-ing; a major condition of the ritual was that either party could call it off at any time. Their partnership was matched, it was equal—except no, it wasn’t. It wasn’t, because if Schenn backed out, he would have spent the rest of his life as the coward who denied Éongrir Ahnschen a Six-ing. If Ahn had backed out, it would be seen as nothing more than the whims of a flighty royal. At worst, it would have cost him a throne he never expected anyway.

  The fight to the death had always been fair. They were equally trained and evenly matc
hed. The fight had been fair, but the choice to enter the arena hadn’t. Ahn thought of the long nights before their Six-ing, the way he and Schenn had held each other in the dark. Each and every talk that had died midway when Ahn dared wonder aloud at what would happen if they didn’t follow through. Schenn’s staunch belief that it had to be done. The polishing of the blades, the blood soaking the sand, his sister’s insistence that everyone felt a little complicated about it but that didn’t mean it was bad, he was fine, he would be fine—

  I’m sorry, he prayed frantically, twisting his earpiece. He did not know what to do with all this power he had not asked for, the power he wielded even now, clumsy as a child. Schenn, I’m sorry. That day on the beach, I didn’t mean to rub it in. I didn’t mean for any of this—

  He yelped at the feeling of a hand on his wrist. Hei was crouched beside him, their claws pressed to the flesh of his arm.

  “Sorry,” he gasped. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

  Hei gave him a long look, a single click.

  “What Hei said,” Sohmeng agreed. She sat down on the other side of him. “You look awful. Do you want to let go of your ear?”

  It was throbbing where Ahn had been pulling at it; he hadn’t realized until Sohmeng pointed it out. He released the bone, shaken by the image of the lobe tearing, cutting off any chance at connection that he hadn’t already ruined.

  Hei’s knuckles brushed his forehead, his cheek, checking for fever. Their eyes moved from his face to his earpiece, and he resisted the urge to shrink back from them. Everyone back in Qiao Sidh knew what he had done the moment they saw the bone, which protected him from questions. The thought of explaining it aloud made him want to cry.

  “No sick,” Hei said. They tapped his chest, meeting his eye with a look that might have been sympathetic. “Breathing, Ahnschen.”

  He breathed. The oxygen made him dizzy. Sohmeng patted his shoulder encouragingly, dropping an escaped hatchling back in his lap. The way it wiggled reminded him of the day one of the hunting dogs at Hvallánzhou had given birth. He’d been a child himself, giggling as a puppy squirmed in his arms.

  “So... looks like you’re freaking out a little,” Sohmeng said carefully. Ahn stroked the little sãoni’s back, trying to calm down. “Makes sense.”

  Ahn felt his body lock up, his breathing cut off. “What do you mean?”

  Sohmeng tugged at her bangs, looking a little uncomfortable. Beside her, Hei simply watched them, saying nothing. “Well, the trial’s coming up, yeah?”

  The trial. The trial, of course how had Ahn forgotten the trial?

  “Oh,” he said. “That—yes, that. No, I’m fine. I’m fine.”

  Hei clicked again. It was more of a snort, actually.

  “I’m fine,” Ahn echoed. His fingers had found their way back to his earpiece.

  “...sure,” Sohmeng said. “But just for the sake of argument, what if you weren’t fine? I know thirty days is better than none, but it isn’t actually that long, and we don’t know what the Grand Ones are going to say, and—”

  “I think they’ll kill me.” The words came out easy. From far away, Ahn could hear the relief in his voice. “It would be the right thing to do.”

  Silence grew between them, filling rapidly with the life of the rainforest. Sãoni chirps and insect chitters and the distant voices of the scouts. The space expanded, and Ahn felt smaller. Felt like himself in the smallness.

  Sohmeng broke first. “Ahn—”

  “It’s true, Sohmeng.” Twice now he had cut her off. On top of everything else, he was losing his good manners. “If my people had never showed up, Eiji would be safe. Ateng would be safe. The sãoni would be migrating the way they should. This never would have happened if I had been the one who—”

  The fight had been so close. The tear of the blade through Ahn’s chest had shocked him and Schenn both. Despite the burning pain, the dizziness of bloodloss, that shock had given Ahn’s body the power to retaliate. To finish it.

  “That’s Qiao Sidh, Ahn,” Sohmeng snapped. “That’s not you. You weren’t even there when they first landed! What were you doing when you were like, what, fourteen?”

  Nearly fifteen. He was still at Kørno Wan with Schenn. “Nothing—nothing good, Sohmeng.”

  “I don’t believe that. No one can do nothing good.” Sohmeng looked over to Hei, seemingly trying to get them to take her side. They scratched at the dirt with their sãoni claw. “Look, it’s true that if Qiao Sidh had never invaded, everything would be better. And you’ve messed up, you really have, but you’re not responsible for your entire empire!”

  “I’m the prince.”

  “Eleventh born,” Sohmeng spat. “How many times have you said that to me? Besides, you’re not just some prince, you’re our friend.” Ahn could see the complexity of the anger that twisted in her; they both knew it wasn’t her job to defend him. But she wouldn’t back down. “You know what? Enough. This is—this is ridiculous. I’m going to talk to the Grand Ones. You’ve been doing everything you can, they need to see that!”

  Before anyone could argue, Sohmeng was storming back into Nona Fahang. He watched her walk away with her fists clenched and her chin held high.

  After a moment, Hei rose as well. Ahn’s hand dropped from his ear as he braced himself for another afternoon alone with his swarming thoughts—but then Hei sat back down. Their back brushed his, light as breath. The hint of contact made him want to weep, and despite his best judgment, he pressed back.

  Hei allowed it, saying nothing. They sat with him for a long time, holding space for all the ways in which they did not yet know how to touch.

  One afternoon, when Sohmeng was pacing the perimeter of Nona Fahang, things went from bad to worse. The hmun was preparing for a festival honouring the Chisong phase, and Eakang wanted to tell her all about it. She was avoiding them—and trying to plan her way out of attending the upcoming party—when she heard the sound.

  It was one she would have recognized anywhere, a sound from her worst dreams: human screaming, sãoni snarling. An attack.

  Eakang quickly became the least of her worries. Sohmeng bolted for the exit, her mind rushing through worst-case scenarios. She and Hei had been so careful, the sãoni had been adjusting so well. She had promised the Grand Ones that the colony would be a helpful force and not a dangerous one—

  A group of scouts were gathered outside Nona Fahang’s primary exit, spears in hand, keeping back any curious villagers. They were shouting back and forth with their comrades above, the banyan platform shifting with the rush of footsteps. Arguing with them would take too much time—she had to get through. Sohmeng steeled herself, ready to start shoving, when a firm hand took hold of her arm.

  “Good,” said Polha Hiwei. “You’re here.”

  “What happened?” Sohmeng demanded. “Is anyone hurt? Where’s Hei? You need to get a healer, you need to—”

  “I need you to slow down, Minhal,” Polha interrupted. Being addressed by her phase name startled Sohmeng into silence, and the leader of the scouts took the opportunity to continue. “No one is hurt, but a sãoni took a snap at one of my scouts.”

  Sohmeng paled. “I’m—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “That’s right it wasn’t,” Polha agreed, shooting a glare upwards. Even in the ruckus, Sohmeng noticed that the scouts were keeping a wide berth from their leader. “A few of my own decided now would be the time to show off and tease the creatures, like they’re shoulder monkeys and not apex predators. Didn’t think I had to explain that one to grown adults, but here we are.”

  Sohmeng did not envy the scouts who had pushed their luck. She wanted to be angry, but frankly, she was just grateful it hadn’t been worse. “So it’s okay, then?”

  “Not quite. The issue isn’t with the sãoni. It’s Hei.”

  This, Sohmeng was not expecting. “Hei? What are you talking about?”

  “When the sãoni lunged, one of the scouts threw down a spear in
defense. She missed, but that didn’t stop Hei from picking it up and throwing it right back up at her. Nearly skewered the poor woman, and not so much as an apology.”

  Sohmeng froze. What was she supposed to say? She could feel the other scouts listening in, waiting for an excuse. “I...”

  Polha sighed, pulling Sohmeng aside. To her surprise, the woman looked sympathetic. “This was the fault of my scouts, and I apologize. But people are going to talk about Hei’s behaviour today, and I can’t stop that.”

  “They’re not a bad person,” Sohmeng insisted.

  “I believe you. At the very least, I trust that Hei is less dangerous than the tsongkar.” Polha glanced over her shoulder. “But if they lash out and hurt one of my scouts, there’s going to be a problem. Up until now, the sãoni have been a helpful presence, but I need to know that if they get aggressive, Hei will think first of Nona Fahang.”

  That was absolutely not something Sohmeng could promise. “I’ll talk to them.”

  “It would be more effective if Hei spoke for themself, you know.” Polha took Sohmeng’s shoulder, looking at her firmly. “Whatever it is you see in them, all the rest of Nona Fahang knows is that they’re a wild human who commands sãoni, and just so happened to ride in with a Qiao Sidhur prince.”

  “I was also there,” Sohmeng said tersely. “And I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “This is true. But it doesn’t change the fact that there is much to fear about Hei. Should the tsongkar’s trial go your way, I imagine you’ll need Hei and the sãoni to get him back to his people—it would benefit all of you to make introductions. Build some trust with the Grand Ones so they don’t send the colony away at the next sign of trouble.”

  Sohmeng nodded numbly. The logic stood; it just felt impossible.

  “Consider it. And send Hei my apologies.” With a final pat on Sohmeng’s arm, Polha whistled for the scouts to move aside.

  A few phases of daily back-and-forth had helped Sohmeng memorize the route. The steps usually felt like a meditative lead-up to seeing her partner, but this time, she felt little but dread as she stepped into the clearing.