Three Seeking Stars

by Avi Silver

  “You’re—you’re right,” he conceded. It was a bizarre approach, but a diplomatic one. And Sohmeng did have a better head for this kind of thing than he did. “This could be a turning point.”

  Sohmeng flopped back down into the hammock with a sigh. “And then I don’t have to be there alone, which is also a big freaking plus.”

  It seemed strange to Ahn that Sohmeng would feel like she was going alone when her father and his family would also be there. Then again, things were hardly ever that simple. Despite how much he had always enjoyed social events, Ahn knew the feeling of being lonely in a crowd, of laughing with friends while trying to ignore the impossible chasm between everyone’s life experiences.

  He could not understand what it was like to be Sohmeng Minhal. But if she considered his company at the Chisong festival worthwhile, he wanted to prove her right. Instead of coming up with ways to impress her, it would be wiser—and more respectful—to simply do as he was asked.

  “...thank you,” Ahn said quietly. “For giving me another chance.”

  “Yeah, Ahn. No problem.”

  “Really,” he insisted. “Your company has been—I mean it’s really—”

  “Don’t you get mushy on me now, Ahnschen,” she interrupted, pushing off the wall with her foot to make the hammock sway. “The moonless void of my heart cannot handle any more feelings tonight.”

  Ahn doubted that, but he didn’t push it any further. He took a bite of the lemongrass Tonão had left for him, savouring the pop of flavour on his tongue. It cleared the bad taste today had left in his mouth, refreshing and resetting. He imagined the festival. For one night, he could be a stranger at a party rather than a prisoner from a far-off land.

  Ahn fell asleep to dreams of dancing. In the dream, he was floating across a dance hall in the winter palace, spinning from partner to partner. First, he was a child, dancing with imaginary siblings who laughed with him and pinched his cheeks. Then, he was back at Asgørindad, pressed close to friends who had forgotten his title, who wanted nothing more than to tell him jokes and fall asleep on his shoulder during lectures.

  There was someone else he danced with in that dream—a partner with a sheathed sword at his hip. A boy whose face remained hidden. Ahn craned his neck as he twirled the boy, trying to get a closer look. Just when Ahn thought he had it, the boy turned to sand in his hands. It glittered in his palms, ran through his fingers. Left Ahn wondering when the music had stopped.

  Sohmeng Minhal took a deep breath, steadying herself to face her opponent. She had withstood many an injustice in her sixteen and a half years, but this was really, really pushing it. Even still, it had to be done. She would not back down from a challenge, no matter how distasteful.

  “Hey Eakang!” she said, smiling as brightly as her teeth could bear.

  The young Minhal jumped. “S-Sohmeng! I didn’t see you there.” They tucked their hands behind their back, glancing at Ahn, who was standing quietly by Sohmeng’s side. “Um, what’s up?”

  Sohmeng forced her smile a little wider, trying to counter their nervous energy. Of course they were nervous—she had ripped them a new lunar phase the last time they were alone together. Deserved as it had been, she couldn’t let old problems get in the way of her new mission.

  “Oh, I just wanted to say hi before the Chisong festival tonight! I’m sure you’ll be so busy, so I figured I’d wish you a watchful eye now.” Ahn cleared his throat, nudging her. Yeah, she was laying it on a little thick.

  Eakang smiled a little. “That’s really nice of you. If, if you wanted to hang out during it we could totally—”

  “Have you met Ahn?” Sohmeng asked, pushing the man forward. “I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to be introduced!”

  “I mean, I was one of the scouts who brought you both in—”

  “Of course, of course,” Sohmeng said, waving her hand at them. “But I don’t think you’ve really had a chance to talk, to get to know each other!”

  Some part of Sohmeng knew, deep down, that this was not her most shining moment. And under Chisong, at that. She justified it with some vague thought about Minhal and opposites and intentions aren’t everything just let me live okay and decided to work on being a more honest person later.

  “Let me do the honours,” she said. “Ahn, this is Eakang Minhal. My father’s—stepchild. Eakang, this is Ahnschen, eleventh prince of Qiao Sidh and a very good friend of mine!”

  Ahn inclined his head at Eakang with a warm smile, but didn’t tap his unpierced left earlobe; Sohmeng had told him to leave out the Qiao Sidhur greetings for now. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Eakang Minhal.”

  “Um, you too, Ahnschen!” To Sohmeng’s surprise, Eakang offered a tentative smile of their own, and a hand for him to grasp. Good. The less anxious they were, the easier this would be.

  “Ahn’s coming with me to the Chisong festival this evening!” Sohmeng announced, linking arms with the man.

  Eakang’s brows raised. “Is he?”

  “He really is.” Sohmeng gripped Ahn’s arm a little tighter, daring him to run away at the last minute. She’d been talking him out of his stage fright on-off throughout the day. With her best pass at a winsome sigh, Sohmeng amped up her own performance. “I just... I really hope that he’s able to have a nice time. That we all are! This festival is so important, and such a great way to share in culture and community. It would be so devastating if people let their own grudges get in the way of everyone having a nice time, don’t you think?”

  “It is supposed to be a special time for everyone,” they agreed carefully.

  “And Ahnschen has wanted so badly to learn more about Nona Fahang. Sure, the circumstances that brought him here were kinda complicated, but he... well, he—” Sohmeng jabbed him in the side. “Tell Eakang what you said.”

  “What I said?”

  “Just this morning. About Nona Fahang.” Sohmeng blinked at him slowly. Was this man seriously in the running to become an emperor? “How you feel about Nona Fahang.”

  “Ah!” Took him long enough. “I am sorry, my Dulpongpa is not very...” Ahn shrugged apologetically. “It is one thing I want to learn more of. I would like to see true peace between our, our cultures—and that comes from learning each other. But I know I have hurt people, and they don’t have much reason to trust me. So it is hard to make things right, even though I want to be—to be good.”

  “Be better,” Sohmeng agreed, nodding emphatically. The genuine guilt in Ahn’s voice was a nice touch—and a reassurance that she was doing the right thing. “He just hasn’t had much opportunity, you know? So I sure do hope people give him a chance tonight.”

  “It—it’s important to try to make things right after causing harm,” Eakang agreed, looking at Ahn with newfound sympathy.

  “And I know that Ahn’s a decent guy,” Sohmeng said, squeezing his bicep for good measure. Like an unripe melon. “But I don’t think anyone will listen to me. I’m an outsider, after all.”

  Much to Sohmeng’s delight, understanding dawned on Eakang’s big dumb face.

  “You know what?” they said, pushing one of their braids over their shoulder with a look of determination. “I can help.”

  “Really?” Sohmeng asked. This was too easy. “But how?”

  “I can talk to people,” Eakang insisted. “I can tell them that Ahn’s a really good guy, and that he’s trying his best to get to know everybody. I don’t want to brag, but I’ve used my Minhal standing to try out a lot of things in the hmun, and I know a lot of people. Maybe they’ll listen to me!”

  Sohmeng pressed her hands to her cheeks, dragging Ahn’s arm along for the ride. “Wow! That’s such a great idea, Eakang! I never would have thought of it!”

  Eakang beamed, bouncing on their toes. “I should go get ready! And then I’ll get right to it. You can—you can count on me, Sohmeng! And you too, Ahnschen. I won’t let you down!”

  As they ran off to spread the good word of Éongrir Ahnschen, Sohmeng m
arvelled at her own brilliance. In one fell swoop, she’d found a way to build goodwill for Ahn and keep Eakang out of her hair during the Chisong festival. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  “Told you it would work,” she said smugly.

  “You were right, but...”

  “But what?” Sohmeng laughed. “I didn’t also manage to snag a Grand One’s seat?”

  “Eakang might not be your favourite person, but they’re a good kid,” Ahn said gently. “I bet they would have agreed to help if you’d just asked.”

  The words churned uncomfortably in Sohmeng’s gut. That was probably true. But with everything else going on, the additional task of being nice was one thing too many to juggle.

  “We should get ready too,” Sohmeng said. “All this work won’t go anywhere if we show up to the party looking like something the sãoni dragged in.”

  As the two of them took their turns in the shower stall and changed into fresh clothes, they could hear the sounds of people and music filling the hmun’s main square. Sohmeng tied her hair up into two buns, one for each of the moons; it was different from what she was used to, but it was nice to feel a little festive. As she rubbed crushed plumeria petals onto her neck, she tried to push back her nerves.

  In contrast, Ahn appeared to be leaning into the social mood in the air. Despite the fact that he was far from home in a stranger’s set of clothes, surrounded by people who did not care for him, he readied himself for the event with quiet poise. Sohmeng supposed he had gone to plenty of parties before, being a prince and all.

  “Do you want help with your hair?” she asked, watching him braid the long strands of black and silver. It seemed like a nice thing to offer. A reminder that they were in this together.

  He looked up at her, surprised. “If—if you’d like?”

  Sohmeng decided she would. She sat behind him, finishing the braid and twisting it into a little bun. It was nice, pulled back from his face. Her gaze wandered briefly to the exposed piercing in his ear. She poked it, curious. “What is this?”

  Ahn jumped slightly at the touch, bringing his fingers up to the jewelry. The motion seemed almost protective, as though she had poked a healing wound. “It—it’s a piece of home.”

  Nosy though she was, Sohmeng could hear the hesitancy in his voice, and decided not to press. “It’s nice,” was all she said. She secured her sãoni skin wrist cuffs, now decorated with some of the wovenstone beads she had taken from Sodão Dangde. She understood the comfort of the familiar.

  Ateng had several holidays, so Sohmeng was no stranger to the concept of parties. But Nona Fahang put one on like she had never seen. It looked like the entire hmun had flooded the square, a swirling mass of red and white in celebration of the moons. Everyone’s cheeks were painted according to their birth phases in imitation of the Grand Ones’ tattoos. As far as she could tell, they had also coordinated their outfits according to gender, with the men in white dresses, the women in red, and the bigender in mixes of both. It was unusual to see people wearing these visual identifiers; usually gender was expressed through language, not appearance. Still, she was suddenly thankful for the attention with which Jaea Won had dropped off their own clothing, colouring Ahn in the masculine and Sohmeng in the feminine. She would have to thank her later.

  Two enormous bonfires had been put up in the square, and people danced around them in circles, hand-in-hand. The Grand Ones clapped along with the musicians, the more mobile ones getting up to join the dancing while the seated were attended to by party-goers. Long tables were laid with food, almost all of it symbolically circular: stacked cross-sections of fruit glazed in honey, thick steamed buns sprinkled with seeds, bowls of mint water, and pungent, spiced berry wine. People helped themselves to generous portions, and for each item that was taken, two more seemed to appear in its place. Pimchuang Ker was refilling a bowl of candied flower buds, laughing with her neighbours.

  Sohmeng squeezed Ahn’s hand in her own, feeling very far from home.

  Ateng was a land of balance, not bounty. Every portion was sacred, every choice intentional; neighbours shared out of a collective respect for the limitations of their home. Where the wine flowed in Nona Fahang, mountain marrow trickled in Ateng—and even then, the drink of distilled mountain water, ground herbs, and precious sediment was only allowed to the Grand Ones.

  Sohmeng had been taught that high holidays were a time for prayer, for gathering together in gratitude to reenact ancient stories and reflect on the ways in which they resonated in peoples’ personal lives. Celebrations were fun, of course—any break from routine was a good time, and she loved watching all of the plays and puppetry and competitions as a child. But the hmun’s strict adherence to tradition made for an often solemn undertone.

  By Ateng’s standards, Nona Fahang’s notion of worship was verging on blasphemous. Sohmeng watched it play out, trying to superimpose her childhood onto a place full of this much joy. Would she have been happier here, in this bubbling, raucous hmun that treated tradition as a living breathing thing?

  Obviously, said a voice in her head. I mean, you wouldn’t have been exiled just for being born.

  “Are you hungry?” Ahn asked, peering over at one of the tables. “It looks like one of the lines shrunk.”

  “I could check out the food, yeah.” Delicious as everything smelled, Sohmeng’s didn’t feel very hungry. All she had ever wanted in Ateng was to see her community really let loose, to shake off the parts of their culture that made Sohmeng feel stifled. Seeing it happen elsewhere struck an unexpectedly jealous note.

  Her parents had been traders. They had known about Nona Fahang, even visited it in the past, which meant they knew Minhal didn’t have to be a death sentence. So why had they chosen to hide her away? Why didn’t they just leave Ateng and bring her to a hmun where they knew she would have been safe, where she could have lived exactly as she was?

  Sohmeng took a bite of a steamed bun, thankful to have something tangible to sink her teeth into. She was deciding what food she would sneak out for Hei when Eakang came bounding over, two dark spots painted on their cheeks.

  “Sohmeng!” they said excitedly. “I was looking for you!”

  “Well, you found me.” She willed her feet to stay planted; annoying as they were, Eakang was doing a massive favour by putting in a good word for Ahn. And if she was being honest with herself, Ahn’s earlier comment was rankling at her.

  “Come paint your cheeks with the other Minhals!” they said, pointing at their own face. “We saved some black paint for you, and it might clear up some confusion about the whole Par thing.”

  The whole Par thing. Sohmeng took a slow breath, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Eakang.”

  “It’s no trouble, really!” They looked to Ahn, tilting their head in thought. “I’d invite you to get painted too but um... you don’t know your birth phase, do you?”

  “I’m afraid not,” he replied with an apologetic smile.“I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, no, it’s okay!” Eakang patted him on the arm. “I just didn’t want you to feel like I was leaving you out or anything.”

  “That’s—that’s very kind of you, Eakang.”

  “It’s no trouble! This must all be kind of uncomfortable for you, huh?”

  Ahn’s shoulders seemed to drop a fraction. “It’s not so bad. Just...”

  “Complicated,” Eakang finished, nodding. Ahn looked like a little kid, relieved after struggling to hold in a secret. “But we’re going to make it work! Try to enjoy yourself, okay? It’s a party!”

  Watching this should have been reassuring. Wasn’t it what Sohmeng wanted, to have Ahn find his place? To not be antagonized by the community, to have the opportunity to prove himself? She should have been glad to see how easily Eakang spoke to Ahn and invited him into their circle. She should have been thankful that someone here knew what to say to him to shake off that stiff posture, even if it wasn’t her. That would have been the good, adult response.

&nb
sp; Sohmeng didn’t feel like an adult right now. She felt like an angry child, powerless against an oncoming tantrum.

  With the light of Chisong on her head, she forced down the feeling until her chest ached. She let the Minhals paint her cheeks, listened to them chatter about their lives, watched as they invited Ahn into their conversations. Every kind word seemed to smooth him around the edges, until he transformed into a version of himself she had not seen before: charming, social, radiating warmth. Seeing him this way made Sohmeng suddenly aware of how uneasy he had been since she met him, how private and afraid.

  “What are festivals like in Qiao Sidh?” one of the more inquisitive Minhals asked through Eakang’s translation.

  “That is a—a big question. We have many celebrations and holidays, and they’re all a little different.” He smiled, tugging at his earpiece. “The Empire is large, with many—many types of people. One of my favourites, up north in the mountains, they carve—oh, I don’t know the word. It’s water. Water so cold it is like stone. They make it beautiful. Make images and, and cups you can drink wine from.”

  “Can water get that cold?” the Minhal asked doubtfully. “What would happen to the rivers?”

  “It depends on how fast the river is, and how deep,” Ahn explained.

  Before the interrogation could continue, the drums began to rise. Apparently this song was a favourite, because a bunch of them jumped up, apologizing and running off to dance.

  “What about you, Sohmeng?” another Minhal asked. “Are there parties like this in Ateng?”

  “Pamai!” Eakang said, giving them a stern look. “Don’t bother Sohmeng about Ateng.”

  “You don’t need to be bossy Eakang,” Pamai retorted, crossing their arms and putting Sohmeng in the awful position of wanting to defend Eakang’s bossiness. “You can’t just hoard Sohmeng because they’re in your house!”

  The black circles suddenly felt very heavy on Sohmeng’s cheeks. With Minhal marked on her face, she was probably going to be hearing the neutral pronoun a lot from here on out. Shame twisted in her as she wondered if it would have been easier to just keep claiming Par.