by Kevin Hearne
Halfway up to the fourth landing, we see a greensleeve. Or, rather, I do—Adithi’s looking at the landing we’re headed to. This fellow is standing elsewhere in the canopy, higher up to our right. He’s a handsome white man with dark hair and a few days’ whiskers on his jaw. Superb waistcoat, and dark pants that end at the knees because below that he has mushrooms growing on the bark of his shins. And similar bark grows on his forearms, except there I see moss and the red and yellow blossoms of tiny little iceplants. He is damn beautiful, and I guess the imagery leaks through to my hive along with some sense of my opinion, because I get this overwhelming response from them and I vocalize it without thinking.
“I want to pollinate him,” I announce.
“What? Who?”
“Nectar! I mean nothing.”
“Hanima? Whoooo? Oh. I see. Oh, my, yes. Good call.”
“He’s like. Wow. I, uh. Eeeeee!”
Adithi pats me on the shoulder a couple of times. “It’s okay. You don’t have to put it into words. I understand. But, hey, greensleeves are kind of important. People in Forn listen to them. We should talk to him about the Sixth Kenning.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe he can get the clans to put pressure on the viceroy to accept us. You know. Diplomatic shit.”
“Ohhh. I think you’re right. Look at the older guy next to him.”
“Which guy?”
“The one in the full-on fancy green robe with swirlies and stuff on it.”
“Oh! I think those are vines. He kind of blended in. What about him?”
“I bet he’s important. You can tell because he’s wearing fancy clothes next to a greensleeve.”
Some people behind us loudly clear their throats to let us know we are blocking traffic. We get moving.
“So let’s do it,” Adithi whispers. “Let’s go talk to them.”
“Fine. But how? They’re like three levels up, and these stairs and bridges aren’t heading that way.”
“We ask someone Fornish.”
Adithi hails the next Fornish person wearing a maroon waistcoat when we make it to the next landing.
“Hello,” she says, smiling at us. “We have one table left on this landing. Did you want to be seated or continue on up?”
“We’d like to see the greensleeve who’s up a few levels,” Adithi says, trying to keep her voice low. “It’s about the Sixth Kenning.” The Fornish woman’s smile melts like cheese on a sandwich. I think that might mean I’m hungry. The food they’re serving with the tea smells wonderful, and it’s difficult to think of anything else.
“I beg your pardon? You mean the Fifth Kenning?”
“No, I mean the Sixth Kenning.”
The woman gives a tiny shake of her head, her eyes blinking rapidly. “There is no Sixth Kenning.”
We blink back at her and then Adithi says, “Forgive me for asking, but might you be new in town?”
“Yes. I just arrived from Forn.”
“Okay. That explains it. The Sixth Kenning is real, and I am positive the greensleeve will want to hear what we have to say.” The woman looks like she’s about to call security when Adithi adds, “This is for the good of the Canopy and your clan. I swear to Kalaad.” That widens her eyes and changes her mind.
“Wait here, please. I’ll make inquiries on your behalf.”
She springs away from us and takes a running jump at the trunk, leaping right over the safety ropes that confine us and make us feel like we’re not going to topple to our doom. She moves quickly and surely among the boughs, making leaps to handholds and branches that would kill me if I tried it, until she’s out of sight a few seconds later, high above our heads.
People nearby gasp at her exit and then look at us as if we did something terrible, and we smile reassuringly and pretend that was all totally normal.
“There’s one table on this landing,” I tell them. “Enjoy.”
They don’t look like they enjoy hearing me talk, so I decide to stop there.
“This is going to be fine,” Adithi whispers to me, “but just in case it isn’t, get ready to run.”
“Where?”
“Away. Or down first, and then away.”
But the Fornish woman returns after a few minutes and asks us to follow her. She doesn’t expect us to leap around the trees the way she did, thankfully, but leads us on a serpentine path upward, using some paths among boughs that were blocked off to the general public. Soon we’re in the presence of the greensleeve and the man in the green robe, on a landing that’s lush with flowers and birds, and they look a bit confused.
“Hello,” the robed man says. He’s got sandy hair that curls a bit away from his brow and he’s tried to grow it long like a Nentian, but I don’t think it’s working out for him very well. But he has rather startling blue eyes, kind and patient, and I guess I could talk to those and pretend he’s bald. “I’m Jes Dan Kuf, ambassador to Khul Bashab, and this is Mak Fin ben Fos of the Red Pheasant clan. Who might you be?”
“We’re here to talk about the Sixth Kenning,” Adithi replies, leaving out our names.
“Right, I understand. But you’re not who we were expecting.”
Adithi and I exchange a look of confusion.
“Who were you expecting?” I ask.
“They were expecting me,” a voice says behind us. I turn and see it’s our friend.
“Tamhan!” I cry, and not caring a bit, I run to him and crush him in my arms. He grunts in surprise or maybe I hurt him a little bit, but I don’t care. “This is the best! How lucky that you’re here!” My smile falters a bit as I pull back from the hug and get a better look at his face. He’s tired, with half circles like upside-down mushroom caps floating underneath his eyes.
“Luck has nothing to do with it. I had an appointment,” he replies. “But glad as I am to see you, I can’t say that it’s lucky. I’m followed everywhere now. We won’t have much time before someone from the city watch interrupts us. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Is this…?” Jes asks, his eyebrows climbing up his face, waggling a finger at us.
“Yes,” Tamhan replies. “This is Hanima and Adithi, blessed with the Sixth Kenning.”
A lot of smiling and bowing happens after that, and then the ambassador assures us that we won’t need to worry about being seen or interrupted without warning by the city watch.
“How can you guarantee that?” Adithi says.
Jes looks to the greensleeve, who has spoken very little to this point except to exchange greetings. “Mak will make sure of it.” The greensleeve nods, then tendrils or shoots or something come out of his silverbark shins and pierce or kiss the platform of tree boughs underneath it. And shortly thereafter, the foliage and branches of the massive tree move and grow to completely surround us. No one can see us from any angle when he’s finished, but while it’s happening we stand there slackjawed. The ambassador explains, “We’re on Fornish embassy soil here. The city watch can’t just barge in. My staff will stall and delay, and when they can’t reasonably do so any longer, they’ll warn us and we’ll get the two of you hidden. Tamhan happens to be here on legitimate business, so don’t worry.”
I swing around with a question in my face, and Tamhan grins back at me. “I’m here to negotiate the sale of some choice chaktu meat on behalf my father.”
That relaxes me somewhat. Soon enough the Fornish have us seated at a table and chairs made of living wood that grows right in front of us, and we’re brought tea and cakes. I can’t believe how cool it all is. And Mak is even better-looking up close than he was from afar. I feel a buzz humming inside me and I don’t know how much of it is the hives and how much of it is my own silly body. I know he must have someone who loves him already, and I am way too young for him anyway, but looki
ng at him makes me happy, so I am going to enjoy it.
We spend a little bit of time proving that we are the real deal—or, rather, I do. Adithi can’t reasonably be expected to summon horses up a tree. But I name the insects within my reach that I can call to my hand, and in a few minutes they all arrive and patiently line up on my arm: honeybees, hornets, and wasps of several different kinds.
“Impressive,” Jes Dan Kuf says. “Would you be able, in theory, to travel with a hive or many hives, pollinating fields as needed?”
“Easily,” I answer. “I traveled with a feral hive all the way here.”
“Extraordinary,” Mak says, and I feel myself flushing underneath his gaze. “Think of how our countries could prosper together with the combined power of the Fifth and Sixth Kennings.”
“I’ve been thinking quite a bit about it,” Tamhan replies. “But, unfortunately, the leadership of Ghurana Nent seems opposed to the Sixth Kenning taking hold.”
“I see. Could you inform me of their position as you see it?”
“Viceroy Bhamet Senesh either wants them dead or in a dungeon. I don’t know how the other viceroys or this new king is going to feel about it.”
The two Fornish men exchange a look and the ambassador replies, “Probably the same, alas.”
“So we need a new government,” I say, thinking it’s the obvious thing, but the silence that falls afterward lets me know that I might have said something halfway to fully stupid. The ambassador’s fingers twitch, realizing he has to say something.
“Ah. Yes, well. The Fornish government cannot directly support a rebellion. You understand we cannot get involved in your internal politics. If we support a rebellion and it fails, then our country will suffer retribution from this current government. We can’t take that risk.”
“Why are we here, then?”
“Well, it’s a safe place to meet,” Tamhan points out.
“Oh, yeah.”
“And we can talk, theoretically, about ideas in the abstract,” Jes says, and Mak looks visibly surprised. The ambassador presses on. “The question is, if you don’t think your current government is working satisfactorily to serve your people’s needs, what do you think a new government should be for? Ours is to protect the Canopy’s resources, then the rights and prosperity of clans, and then the individual. The Kaurians emphasize education and trade and promote peace. The Raelechs, like us, are also protective of their resources and focused on the security of their borders. The Brynts prioritize public health above all—the withdrawal of their hygienists from every other nation proves that.”
“Right now the government is supposedly protecting us from the animals of the plains,” Tamhan says. “But the Sixth Kenning would make that obsolete.”
“A government should help and support its most vulnerable people,” I declare. “Not merely protect them from outside violence with a wall. The poverty we see down by the river should not be possible.”
Tamhan nods.
“Some basic housing and income, then?” Jes says. “Admirable. Have you thought of how you will pay for that?”
His question is so predictable and frustrating that I clench my fists. “Why is it that people always question how we’ll pay for doing good things for our people but never question how we’ll pay for war? No, that’s rhetorical, Ambassador. The attitude is that war is a necessity but helping people is not, and I cannot disagree more. The purpose of our government is to help people. We simply must do it, so we will find the funds to make it happen, magically if necessary, the way money for war is always magically found. Let that satisfy you.”
Before the ambassador can answer, someone calls through the dense wall of leaves, “Ambassador Kuf, the captain of the city watch is here and insists that we have a surveillance subject in our custody. He’s demanding to see him.”
Tamhan shoots me an apologetic look. “Sorry.”
“All right, bring him up, but take these extra dishes with you. It must look like only ben Fos and I have been here.” The ambassador gestures to Adithi and me to rise. “Quickly. Mak will hide you behind some leaves and you can listen in, but obviously you must make no sound no matter what you hear.”
The greensleeve uses the shoots on his legs again to communicate with the tree, and the branches that made our woven seats untangle and flatten back into the floor of the platform. We’re ushered toward the trunk, and a screen of branches and leaves moves in front of us.
Once it’s all settled, we hear some movement from the other wall of foliage, and a strange voice speaks. It sounds like a bubble of snot is trying to pop in his throat but it’s too tough to die and thus he sounds perpetually half strangled and pissed off about it.
“Ah, there you are. What are you doing here?”
The ambassador replies, “Welcome, Captain Khatagar. This young man was just taking our order for chaktu meat. How can we help you?”
“Here on business, eh?” the snot-choked voice says, presumably the captain.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, go on back to your father and get to it, then.”
“Of course. Ambassador, Khatri Meats thanks you very much for your order. You’ll hear from us shortly.”
They make farewell noises and Tamhan’s footsteps retreat, but the captain’s do not.
“Was there anything else?” Ambassador Kuf asks.
“You’d be well advised not to consort with that boy,” the captain replies. “He’s a troublemaker, you know?”
“No, I wasn’t aware. It was our understanding that Khatri Meats supplies the viceroy himself, the very sustenance that your watch consumes. Was I misinformed?”
“No, the father is fine. But that boy is not to be trusted. You’d best steer clear of him from now on. You wouldn’t want the viceroy to think that you’re not to be trusted either.”
“I’m not sure I understand. Why is he untrustworthy?”
“He’s a known associate of some kids who killed some of my men.”
“Oh, sun and stars! Kids, you say?”
“Vicious kids. Two girls and a boy. We got the boy and won’t have to worry about him anymore.” Adithi and I both clasp our hands over our mouths to keep from crying out. The captain could only be referring to Sudhi, because Abhi isn’t here. No wonder we haven’t heard from Sudhi! The captain continues, “But the girls are still out there, and we think he might be communicating with them somehow.”
“I see. Thank you for explaining.”
When the captain takes his leave and the screen of branches moves aside, I see that Adithi is silently weeping like I am.
“They got Sudhi,” she says.
“I know.” I sniffle and catch the ambassador’s blue eyes with mine. “We are not vicious kids. We don’t want to hurt anybody. We want to help.”
“I know. I believe you,” Ambassador Kuf says, and I believe him too. “Come back and sit. Let’s have some tea. Consort with us all you want. Let’s talk about Sudhi and how we can keep you safe. Or we can talk about how we can use our power to help people.”
It is so strange to hear someone with any sort of power say that.
I’d like to change things so that it’s not strange at all.
* * *
—
Hanima got applause for that ending, and Fintan promised everyone a momentous meeting in the north tomorrow.
It was a vast comfort to me—and to all Brynts—that Rölly used his power to help people. And I don’t believe I am just saying that as his friend. It’s been abundantly clear that his government has been doing all it can to ease the suffering of the refugees and survivors of the invasion. Recalling all the hygienists, for example, to keep this vast collection of people—inside and outside the walls—from falling prey to disease. The Fornish ambassador was correct in saying t
hat we do focus on health above all, for nothing else is possible without that. But Hanima was also correct in saying that it shouldn’t be strange for a person in power to help people.
When I showed up to the refugee kitchen to help in the morning, Chef du Rödal turned me away.
“Sweet of you to come back, honey, but there’s no food.”
“No food?” I repeated dumbly.
She shrugged. “I’m baking bread and that’s it. We used up the last of the vegetables yesterday, so that’s it until we get another shipment in.”
“What about proteins? I know the pelenaut was going to try to do something about that.”
“Oh, the pelenaut, eh? Know him personally, do you?”
“Yes.”
The chef blinked. She’d been joking and hadn’t expected that reply. “Well, he did do something. He mandated that a percentage of every fishing boat’s catch must be sold at a steep discount to us. That doesn’t make boat captains or restaurant owners in the city happy. It worked great for a few days—we got a little bit of everything and people wept because their kids got some protein—but, curiously, it hasn’t worked for the past two. It’s like the ocean’s out of fish! Or someone’s ignoring the pelenaut’s decree. Or someone is hijacking it before it gets to us. If you want to help, honey, maybe go talk to your buddy the pelenaut and let him know what’s going on. He might not know, and I don’t have time.”
“I will. Thank you.”
We had made it through the winter by raiding everything we could—it wasn’t quite enough, because the Eculans had raided food stores too. Imports covered some of the shortfall. But the winter crops that were normally sowed in the south of the country were never sowed, and the greenhouse operations we had in the city were never meant to feed such numbers. Planting time was coming, and I knew that Rölly was offering incentives to people to become farmers, and because of that we should be okay come harvest. But in the meantime there would be a long, lean spring and summer, and we’d be dependent on imports. The strain of losing so many cities and their supporting agriculture had finally caught up with us, despite Rölly’s best efforts to anticipate and mitigate them. There were simply too many mouths to feed in this location. We didn’t have enough to go around, and the people who could readily pay for the food in the city were obviously getting prioritized by producers.
