Read Winged: A Novella (Of Two Girls) Online
Authors: Joyce Chng
Tags: #speculative fiction, #young adult, #steampunk
Winged: A Novella (Of Two Girls) (22 page)
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trading was the ability to
listen
. Not only to verbal words,
but to the even more subtle nuances of body language and moods.
Body language was actually trickier, because some merchants were
wily and were able to mask themselves well. There was an Old Terran
saying:
poker face
. She needed to master that. Wearing your emotions on your
sleeve was not desirable in the world of trade. She was beginning
to see how similar trading and statecraft were, and she admired her
mother even more.
By the end of the day, she would retire to
her room and compose letters and reports. She missed Bei. She
wanted to see her mother and little Min Xin who was by now growing
up quickly.
by the mellow voices and songs of the aunts, drifting in from the
family courtyard.
time, it was the gurgling stream, flanked by the orange-tinged
rocks and the aromatic shrubs. Her feet stirred up tiny puffs of
dust. She knew that she had her khakis and shoes. She was always
wearing them in the dreams.
was within the slot canyon, surrounded, embraced by the waves of
stone. They pulsed gently in the unseen sunlight and she luxuriated
in the glow, the warmth. The stones seemed to whisper to her
stories. Tales. In non-words. Sensations like a touch, a caress
down her spine. She sat down on the soft soil and listened to the
canyon sing to her.
You know you have to come to terms
with your phoenix flame,” said Aunt Betta who had suddenly appeared
in the dream.
I know,” she replied.
Has he come to terms with it?” Javen
asked as he joined Aunt Betta. The dream figures often took
familiar forms and shapes. She had grown used to them.
wordless song came back, wrapping around her like a loving
shawl.
clutching her blanket. One thing was for sure: she had to talk to
Javen.
On Beds of Frankincense and Myrrh
anxiously at the sky, feeling the perspiration curl down her back
in a delicate thread. Her cotton chemise felt damp. It was the
hottest day. Everything was sun-baked, crackling. Even the Nile
crocodiles –
Dua Sobek!
– were immobilized into a state of catatonia,
their fanged jaws wide open while tiny birds picked at their teeth
for scraps.
of spices and herbs.
Frankincense, myrrh,
sandalwood, willow
. Lit with fire, they
had begun burning and the intense fragrances wafted
skywards.
A bright flash of light, like the sun
coming down to land. A bird-shape soared in the sky, gradually
spiraling down in lazy circles, until it landed gracefully: a
long-legged bird, like a purple heron, crowned with two long
feathers. The eyes gleamed with a star-like quality. The feathers
were tipped with sun-fire.
I am here,” the Bennu said in a
sweet fluting voice. “Have you prepared the beds?”
beauty.
spices still smoldering away with ruby-red embers. Without a sound,
she hopped onto the beds and promptly sat down, as if to roost. The
smoke grew thick, the fragrances stronger. The feathers sparked and
soon, the Bennu was engulfed in a fast-burning white fire. The
woman shielded her eyes and when she opened them again, the Bennu
was gone. In its place was a young woman, smooth of skin, bright
eyes like stars at night. She wore only a plain chemise and was
already dusting the ashes off her body fastidiously with a look of
gentle distaste on her sharp face.
And we repeat this every year,” the
young woman said dryly when the other woman approached her with a
cotton veil. She wore it quietly, draping it around her head. The
piles of spices sent puffs of aromatic smoke. She
sneezed.
The people demand it,” the other
woman explained matter-of-factly, helping the young woman up to her
feet. “They want the continuity of legends.”
Ah, I see, I see.”
pyre. The young woman, the former Bennu, glanced at her companion
and said archly, “Next time you do it.”
--- The Book of
Phoenii,
On Beds of Frankincense and
Myrrh
.
the court officials – both senior and junior – felt it most as she
sat, impassive on the surface, on her ornate Phoenix Throne with
its gold-gilded phoenix rampant armrests. Even her trusted
Chamberlain found himself leaning away, so great was her anger. It
hummed in the air, a tense heat-shimmer.
“
Artia has refused to ship more
quartz crystals,” the Empress’s terse voice snapped, a lightning
crackle. “The audacity of the Artian emissary!” The heat-shimmer
spiked and the court officials looked at each other
worriedly.
He has announced that Artia has cut
off diplomatic ties with the Phoenix Court,” the Chamberlain said,
his voice calmer, more controlled. “This just came in, Your
Majesty.”
the armrest in an agitated staccato beat. She spoke then, her voice
less terse but still laced with wrath. “Send an envoy to Artia.
Have him escorted and accompanied with four Fleet war-cruisers. We
have to negotiate with no uncertain terms.”
uncommon for the Empress to resort to armed aggression. This case
must have touched some raw nerve in her.
immigration/customs fairly easily.
Fei
was nondescript, blending
seamlessly into the crowd,
flowing
with them.
Fei
was used to it, having done so countless times
and utilizing a childhood habit.
Merge
in the shadows, where the
lights were the dimmest, so that people would not see
fei
. In the perfumed
secret world of the courtesan caste, where fantasies were woven
with desires,
fei
watched, observed the
fai
and their coquettish ways, their layered gossamer
gowns. One of them would be
fei
biological
fao
, what the gendered races would
call “mother”. Fai could choose to be either
fao
or
fa
, when they entertained their
guests.
Fei
was a
choice to be both.
remembered how
fai
laughed at
fei
, at
fei
choice. That was the single
thing that rankled in
fei
chest. A young child, feeling unwelcome
with
fei
own
people. The hurt was still there, lodged deep like a serrated
knife.
showed up and bought
fei
,
fai
did not wail as they would do to
others who were sold, bartered or exchanged for something. Yrant
simply walked away and began a new life.
Fei
moved closer to the Imperial City, joining the multitude of
merchants, traders and ordinary citizens. They would think
fei
was a tourist, agape
in wonder at the fabled Imperial City.
from the nunnery and proven to her mother that she was able to
control that burning fire inside her. Proud and pleased with
herself, she managed to convince her mother to let her tour the
Alliance Planets before she started her important apprentice-ship
onboard a Fleet ship commanded by one of her older cousins. Her
mother, the then-Empress of the Phoenix Court, reluctantly
agreed.
She found herself in
Artia and
it
was
a cold inhospitable place, dotted only with holdings carved deep
inside the hills. One of the richer families welcomed her in and
let her stay for a week or so. The whole place felt claustrophobic.
Seized by intense cabin fever and tired of the quartz mining, she
wandered the myriad tunnels of the family holding and chanced upon
their indoor greenhouse, lush with plants, jeweled with regular
watering from the automated sprinklers.
touching the cool fronds and feeling the mist on her face, she did
not see the boy until she bumped into him. He whipped around,
startlingly fast, his face fixed in a vicious scowl. He relaxed
when he saw her backing away, apologetically. Her eyes were wide.
They later struck up a conversation. He was the eldest son of her
host family and was enjoying the tranquility in the family private
garden. Soon, it was clear that he had grown infatuated with her.
He would give her gifts, little bouquets and bunches of dew-fresh
flowers and fern fronds picked from the conservatory. She would
politely refuse the gifts and silently regret the stricken look on
his face. She was destined and groomed for another path.
those memories and wondered why she had reacted so viscerally and
aggressively to the Artian emissary’s actions. What was done was
done. The Phoenix Court’s words were final. Diplomacy was coupled
with the use of armed deterrence. Statecraft was cold,
unfeeling.
wounded and hurt expression on the face of an Artian boy. And
lightly fragrant bouquets redolent with the scents of water and
earth.
minor kitchen servants with thin metal
sha
-wire and nonchalantly dumped the
body in one of the many storm drains of the Imperial City.
Fei
had removed the
clothing first, donning it.
Fei
should shed it once
fei
mission was accomplished. The
clothing, an elegant blue pao and black pants, would code
fei
female.
Fei
did not care about
gender roles. They were just masks, ready to be worn and then
discarded when the time was up.
There was orderly chaos in the kitchen when
Yrant padded in. Hot steam plumed in the air, issuing forth from
various stations manned by harried servants. There were sounds of
chatter and of chopping. The smells were overwhelming. All heat and
steam. A young chef was decorating a dish with a carved edible
figurine of a bird in flight. Two women were slicing fresh sea-carp
into paper-thin petals, placing them onto fine porcelain plates to
be served raw with a savory dip. Steamers with sweet and savory
pastries were lowered into the cookers. A group of apprentice cooks
was mixing sauces, ladling thin soy into delicate sauce bowls and
blending spices into glutinous pastes.
something about cutting the vegetables. Yrant only smiled, picked
up a sharp knife and began slicing the green leafy stalks
slowly.
Yrant’s communiqué just when he was about to attend a small
function hosted by another Artian family.
Touched down, blending in, masks on masks
, said the communiqué and it was enough to reassure
Julian.
his lips while he adjusted his suit and made sure that his cloak
matched the rest of his finery ensemble. Yrant would do
fei
job.
Fei
always did. Even in
the darkness of the bedchambers where there were no
inhibitions.
personal comp. He leaned over with a languid hand and pressed the
‘retrieve’ key. He glanced at the words and reread them again.
He slammed the comp shut.
Artia.
spinning interstellar whirlpool, four sleek-shaped and armed
leviathans moving in like killer orcas of old, intent on the
hunt.
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