by R. Cooper
“A little instability can be a benefit, but we don’t want chaos.” Tsomyal was very serious. “Who does that leave? Ignore bloodlines. That is less relevant to them as long as the family is old.”
A long time ago, when there had been more conquests, more battles, social mobility had been possible. Lower class families had likely risen to prominence then, before everything had stagnated.
“The Koel.” Taji rubbed his jaw and tried to banish the cold lick of fear down his spine. “Eriat is the most obvious choice, although I don’t think he wants to be emperor. He has a home life he can barely control. But he is in this because he believes in all the Sha ideals, and Larin is a problem. And because Larin seems to be taking something out on the Koel. I think he’s irked about how they met with us, or maybe because he briefly considered tying with Tir Quida but she chose a Koel. It’s petty, but emperors are probably allowed to be petty.”
His nerves were actually getting worse, spelling it out like this. “Nikay wouldn’t mind being emperor.” Taji couldn’t tell what Tsomyal thought. “He doesn’t like us, but he seems like someone who could be appeased or distracted or flattered. Also like one of those people who think that being in charge is easy. He would probably be as unstable as Larin, maybe more so, because he doesn’t seem that smart. For all his other flaws, Larin is smart. I doubt Larin trusts Nikay or anyone in his circle—except his shehzha, and even that is limited.”
“I don’t know!” Taji added in frustration a moment later. “I haven’t seen every noble family. What I have seen are ancient families choosing between following the emperor, avoiding him, or challenging him. Or perhaps trying to subvert him. Talfa.” Taji sighed. “Shehzha politics. Eriat is pushing Talfa at Rinnah, or possibly Larin. To tie with them or to be a shehzha, it’s not clear. I don’t know for sure what Talfa thinks about it.” That felt like a lie. But Talfa could hardly say no to an emperor. No one would do that. “So there is nothing to be done but try to get through this hunt and hope nothing happens out there. See who steps up. What if it’s Larin?”
“Then it’s Larin.” But Tsomyal didn’t move.
“You use silence like a Shavian, you know,” Taji pointed out with a tinge of bitterness.
Tsomyal twisted to meet his stare. “I have been here for some time, Mr. Ameyo,” they murmured, and opened the door.
TAJI, TSOMYAL, Nev, and Markita—and the two Imperial Guards with Taji—were flown to where the hunt apparently began. Taji didn’t see any other fliers and assumed this one had been arranged for him and Tsomyal and their presumed weaknesses. But since he didn’t feel like stumbling through countless dark tunnels and tripping into the cold, violet early morning light, he didn’t comment.
They didn’t go far. Giant Shavians could probably have walked the distance, even up or down a mountain, in very little time. Taji realized he had never seen a Shavian run. He had never seen them do a lot of things that other cultures did, like dance or sing, but definitely nothing as undignified as a sprint. For a moment, his curiosity about the running was almost enough to distract him from the fear in the pit of his stomach.
He didn’t think Shavians were built for speed necessarily, but they were definitely built for power. A funny thing to think of when his most recent memory of Trenne was Trenne carefully holding him. He wondered if a real Shavian eshe wouldn’t have to be gentle with a real Shavian shehzha. He wondered if they wanted to be.
He wondered a lot of things until Tsomyal scolded him to stop bouncing his knee and Nev gave him a look like she was thinking of sedating him.
Anyway, nothing could have prepared him for emerging from the flier to see a small, bright and merry green pavilion on the edge of a…forest seemed a mild word. This wasn’t a forest to the Shavians. Not a natural forest, anyway. This was likely planned and maintained in some way. A garden for giants.
Taji looked up, vaguely amused at how the taller trees had canopies that didn’t touch one another, and then stared in fascination at the trees that seemed to grow beneath them in massive, sideways, interlocked branches. He couldn’t see where they began. Maybe all that belonged to one tree, the trunk out of sight. Maybe it wasn’t a tree at all, and a xeno-botanist would yell at him for the mistake.
The ground beneath was shadowed and dark. Grim, or so it felt in the early morning hours, the air chilled and damp. Taji’s eyes wouldn’t see much in there, even once they adjusted. The constant reflected light from the rings would not reach the forest floor.
He had been studying the wrong aspects of Shavian anatomy. He doubted they could see in the dark any better than a human, not with their planet bathed in purple light most of the time, but they still had those ears. They didn’t need eyesight to know a threat was approaching.
Humans had absolutely no place hunting among those trees.
Taji stretched to look for Rodian and Nadir, and stumbled into one of the Imperial Guards, who grunted in surprise and then quickly stepped away once Taji was stable again. Taji leaned toward Tsomyal instead and let the two Guards silently disapprove.
Everyone seemed to be in or around the pavilion, which was so warm that Tsomyal sighed in relief. The interior was brightly lit as well, which made it all the more obvious that, for once, the nobles had not chosen their usual cascade of hues and textures. Everyone wore plainer colors with no patterns. Some had chosen old-fashioned sorias. And even those who had not displayed a knife before had one now. Physiology and gender didn’t matter in the hunt, apparently.
It looked like most of the nobles at Laviias were participating. Taji doubted they had a choice, in a matter of honor.
Rinnah was playing host, going from group to group. He didn’t catch what was said and couldn’t determine from ear positions if those about to hunt were nervous, angry, or excited, or if what she said calmed them any. He couldn’t imagine what to say to those who might die for the sake of a bored emperor. But Rinnah was Sha to the bone as well as a scholar. She’d have the right phrases at her fingertips. Today, you are truly Sha, or something similar. Maybe that she wished she could join them.
Taji could admit that most of the nobles around him did not seem unhappy or scared. A few, like Eriat, looked disgruntled, but that didn’t mean anything. He probably was disgruntled in addition to being in fear for his life and his country.
Gia, on the other hand, had the appearance of someone who had been up all night. Perhaps Shavians went wild behind closed doors and she was hungover. Or perhaps she was nervous. This wasn’t only about convenient murder or self-promotion. Everyone had something to prove here. Even Taji.
He straightened his shoulders and pretended he wasn’t in a rumpled soria and that he had every right to enter the pavilion with Ambassador Tsomyal on his arm. He got a few stares, most likely at letting Tsomyal touch him, but most of the Shavians quickly turned away. Taji was worth staring at, but not talking to. Or possibly it was bad luck or forbidden before the hunt to associate with a shehzha. Being a semi-sacred figure made it difficult to determine anyone’s motivations. It was enough to make Taji suspect that shehzha avoided the public on purpose and not the other way around.
Tsomyal discreetly steered them both toward Rinnah, then disengaged from Taji’s arm and left him with no clear instructions on how to proceed.
He supposed his current assignment was be a shehzha. Coincidentally or not, this had also been Trenne’s request.
Taji shivered and had a fleeting moment of kinship with every armed aristocrat around him. He couldn’t tell if he was more worried or excited about what he was about to do, and then he caught sight of Nadir, a figure almost invisible among casually massive Shavians.
Nadir was in his blacks, although not the formal ones. Every decoration or unnecessary tool had been removed, including his translator and possibly his comm.
Taji hurried forward, startling Shavians into tripping out of his path, and then noticed the others with Nadir. Rodian, too new to have any awards or service patches to remove on his plain black un
iform and Lin, looming over Rodian with an unforgiving expression and an absolutely giant knife in her belt. Trenne was behind the others, staring down at them with an expression that was as close to open concern as Trenne would let himself show.
Someone had told the team about the plain robes. Taji wondered briefly if Lin or Trenne had heard about a hunt as children, or if news of the hunts was circulated through stories.
Talfa was there and ready for the hunt despite Larin’s anger, which was a surprise. They stood with a few of the other younger nobles, watching the group of two humans and two lower class Shavians. The fascination didn’t seem cruel, at least not with Talfa, but Taji also had the feeling that, curious or not, those young nobles would gut the nearest tiny human if it meant pleasing Larin, or merely avoiding his displeasure. Playful interest, but also smartly sizing up the competition.
Taji passed Talfa without a word, his attention firmly on his mission for the day. The members of the team noticed him, or maybe the soldiers surrounding him and then him, and Trenne’s ears flicked toward him a moment before Trenne himself turned. Lin tugged Rodian out of Taji’s way in time for Taji to crash into Trenne’s torso with less grace than Taji would have liked in front of so many witnesses.
He took a deep breath and kept his hot face pressed to the durable fibers of Trenne’s uniform. He slid his hands up Trenne’s sides and then settled them on Trenne’s chest. He could lean all his weight on Trenne and Trenne probably wouldn’t notice, but Taji stayed on his feet for the dignity of all shehzha everywhere.
“You were gone when I woke up,” he complained, distressingly genuine unhappiness in his voice.
A ripple of something went through Trenne. Taji almost thought Trenne had forgotten his request, but Trenne splayed one hand between Taji’s shoulder blades, then dropped it to the small of Taji’s back.
“Apologies.” Trenne used his other hand to trace a light touch over the shell of Taji’s ear. Taji shuddered in startled delight and kept his gaze firmly away from Lin or Nadir or Nev. “You are peaceful in sleep, peha, and I did not want to wake you.”
Taji was not prepared to be called that particular nickname in front of the others. He raised his head and found himself the subject of Trenne’s scrutiny. “Thank you for my tea and breakfast.” He would have responded with an endearment, but they all stuck in his throat. “Did you have anything? You are well-rested? Ready for this?” He couldn’t exactly ask what Trenne’s plan for this was with so many Shavians listening in. “You are going to honor me.”
“As much as we are able,” Trenne answered, formal for their audience.
“Sir,” echoed each one in the team.
Taji twitched and made the mistake of glancing over. Nadir—who should look a lot more worried than he currently did instead of being concerned with Taji’s imaginary sex life—winked at him. Rodian had a puzzled frown on his face but the sense to stay quiet.
Taji’s attention came back to Trenne, and Trenne’s ears moved. Whatever people were saying, Trenne could hear every word. The crowd was uncomfortable and restless. Being different, hurat or human or offworlder, was not a benefit here. Maybe there was another reason Talfa and the other younger nobles were near them and not their older relatives.
Taji’s mind spun with murder theories and thoughts about cultural shifts that could only occur with a dramatic catalyst, and he wondered if IPTC or even a hunt like this was enough. Then the mood of the room seemed to abruptly swing to eerie, cold calm.
Larin Emperor had arrived.
Taji kept his gaze on Trenne and let Trenne watch Larin’s entrance, at least until Rodian said, “Almighty,” as though the breath had been pushed out of him.
Taji turned his head and only saw a glimpse through the press of large bodies around him, but a glimpse was more than enough.
Larin had brought his shehzha. All of them.
Three hastily clothed people clung to Larin’s arms, their faces turned down, their eyes trained on the floor. Larin hadn’t ordered them to do that, Taji would bet good money on it. The shehzha were protecting themselves from shame the only way they could.
Refusing a request from Larin was theoretically possible for each of them, but the consequence would be removal of his favor, which meant withdrawal symptoms. Pain. That wasn’t really a choice, and it wasn’t freedom, and it wasn’t the respect a shehzha—that anyone—should have.
Sacrilege, Taji thought again, while dozens of Shavians nobles focused on anything but the three figures pressed to Larin.
Trenne settled a hand at the back of Taji’s neck. Taji nodded gratefully and inched closer. He tried to think of what the other nobles were feeling at a display like that. Shaken, at the very least. Taji’s presence—which was only at Larin’s insistence—was already shocking.
Trenne stroked his nape and Taji didn’t have the wherewithal not to push back and silently ask for more. No one should be looking at him anyway. This whole hunt was a disaster waiting to happen. There was too much pent up energy around him, had been even before Larin’s stunt. Shavians needed to find ways to relax that weren’t performative acts of killing or sex.
Taji eventually raised his head when it didn’t seem as though anyone was going to give a speech of any kind. Mos was still absent, and Rinnah didn’t leave her place next to Tsomyal to go to her brother’s side. No one did. Not even Nikay, which was interesting. But then, shehzha were not to be touched.
As if everyone had been waiting for some prompt Taji missed, servants began to pick their way through the crowd. One stopped near Koel Gia, and Gia pulled the knife from her belt before holding her arms out and sighing impatiently while the servant loosened her clothing.
Taji blinked several times in disbelief, then quickly swung his gaze away as Gia’s robes fell to the floor, only to be confronted by more undressing Shavian nobles.
“Oh shit,” Rodian said, very softly, as if volume mattered here. “Oh shit.”
“Cock out, knife in my hand,” Nadir chimed in. “I suppose there are worse ways.”
His nonchalance was likely feigned, but Taji didn’t spare him a glance. Shavian nobles were arming themselves while being carefully disrobed all around him. Nadir’s comment did make Nev choke on a startled laugh at least.
For a culture that loved ornate, colorful clothing and accessories as well as the idea of perfect self-control to the point of repression, Shavian nobility seemed remarkably relaxed about nudity. Taji supposed the knives were really the bigger concern. It didn’t keep him from staring.
Some Shavians were broad, some more slender. Some were soft-bodied. Pretty much all of them had the same long torso and not quite-upright posture. Humans stood up straight; Shavian bodies had a slight stoop to the shoulders and less of the heavy muscle necessary to allow for a rigid walk. They’d evolved with different influences and different needs. It hadn’t seemed as obvious when everyone around Taji had been clothed.
As he’d suspected, the differences in their sex characteristics were really only obvious in the ones who had carried children. Some of the Shavians who identified as women were smaller than those who identified as men, but not by much. All of them had markings across their faces and shoulders and down their backs. A few had more on their stomachs.
Taji’s gaze dipped lower before he brought it up somewhere near Shavian eye level. Shavian penises and vulva were external, which he’d known, and gonads internal. Some penises were not large, not at all, but to a human they might have been. He had not been expecting bumpy formations, but he probably should have.
He swallowed dryly and tried to distract himself by noting that the I.P.T.C. files were wrong—Shavians did have body hair, although he’d seen hairier humans. But the genetic influence from the Sha Empire once ruling over most of the planet had definitely affected even the nobles. A few had a thin strip of hair extended down their spines. The rest had the odd patch on their chests or some fuzz on their arms or necks.
“Well, then,” Taji said out l
oud, more than a little dazed, and the crowd moved enough for him to see Larin and for Larin to see him.
Larin held his arms out loosely while two of his shehzha undressed him. The third—Elii—was behind him, face hidden against Larin’s neck. Taji couldn’t hear him begging, but he probably was.
Taji fisted his hands in Trenne’s shirt. “Somehow Sha as we are did not translate to total nudity in my head.” Elii’s arms were wrapped tight around Larin, impeding the work of the other two shehzha. Taji couldn’t tell their gender from their sloppily closed robes and lack of weaponry. “Okay.” Their hands were all over Larin, even once his clothes were on the floor. “Okay,” Taji repeated, and abruptly turned to Trenne.
A mistake. Trenne was looking right at him, probably trying to silently tell Taji that he didn’t have to do this. That none of this had precedent and Larin had no honor.
