Ken Liu - The Wall of Storms

The three of them were dressed in plain hempen clothes as though they were maids from some merchant’s household. Fara loved hearing stories, and Théra was willing to indulge her as much as she could, while she still had the opportunity.

Around them, many of the other patrons nursing a flask of cheap wine or mug of foamy beer were in fact disguised palace guards. Indulging the young princess didn’t mean that the Empress Regnant of Dara could take chances with her safety.

“Is raising garinafins really hard?” asked Théra.

“It sounds complicated,” said Zomi. “The hatchlings need a lot of contact with humans, and the tolyusa—the zomi berries—help the hatchlings imprint on pilots, who are treated as part of the garinafin’s family. Since we won’t have adult garinafins to help train the hatchlings, the bond between pilot and mount will be especially delicate and difficult to cultivate.”

The Imperial expedition to Crescent Island had returned with the news that the Lyucu had apparently gotten there first and destroyed the natural colony of zomi berries—presumably after taking enough specimens to be able to grow them back on Dasu and Rui. But the seeds brought by Takval were enough to start a new colony, and the empress was helping with their cultivation. Zomi still blamed herself for not seeing through Tanvanaki’s trick, but everyone else assured her that she could not have known why the pékyu was so interested in the jewelry she and the empress wore.

“Pilots are never involved in the caging and lashing of the younglings to get the adults to behave,” Zomi continued. “It would confuse the garinafins. The individuals who threaten the garinafins are always different from those who bond with them.”

“A combination of force and kindness,” said Théra. “Sounds like a great deal of politics.”

Zomi nodded and said nothing.

They both knew that the conversation was going nowhere because both were circling around the real topic, the topic that they both wanted to and didn’t want to broach.

Zomi bit her lip and decided to take the plunge.

“You’re really going?”

Théra held still for a second, and then turned to Fara. “Will you be all right by yourself for a bit? Zomi and I have some things to discuss.”

Fara nodded absentmindedly, far too absorbed in the storyteller.

Nodding at the disguised guards around them, Théra rose and took Zomi to the tavern keepers’ private residence upstairs, where they could converse just by themselves.

She turned to Zomi and said, simply, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“There is no one else. Fara is far too young, and none of Uncle Kado’s daughters are of marriageable age either.”

“Plenty of political marriages have been arranged with young brides—and not even real princesses, either. You could have asked Empress Jia to adopt another noblewoman and make her into an Imperial princess like Aya Mazoti.”

“This isn’t a political marriage where the bride is just a figurehead. Whoever marries the Agon prince must lead his people with him and stop the Lyucu threat at the root. This alliance is vital for us. The Lyucu now know how to counter our airships, and the only way to defeat them, in the long term, is to possess our own garinafin force—”

“I don’t mean those kinds of reasons!” Zomi’s face flushed. “Do you only think in terms of politics and diplomacy? Do you really think of yourself as only a bargaining chip?”

Théra reached out and grabbed Zomi’s hand. Zomi made as if to pull it out of her grasp before relenting. The two held hands and sat quietly for a while, though their hearts were hardly tranquil.

“Then come with me,” said Théra.

“And watch you wed another?” asked Zomi in disbelief.

“Arrangements can be made,” said Théra. “My own household dealt with such complications—conventions are just that, conventions.”

For a moment, Zomi was tempted, but her rational nature would not allow her to give in: To give up the chance to change Dara as one of the most powerful officials of the Dandelion Court? To give up the chance to seek vengeance for her parents and teacher? To give up the chance to realize her dream of a more fair, more just Dara?

“I can’t,” she said. “No matter how much I want to, I can’t. But why must you give up the throne to pursue a life in some barbaric land?”

“To hand the throne to me was my father’s idea,” said Théra. “But I have never liked to have my life planned out for me. As much as you wish to change the world, so much do I wish the same, but on my own terms with power obtained by my own wits, not handed to me on a platter. You ought to understand that.”

“Perhaps we’re both too ambitious,” said Zomi wistfully, “like Luan Zyaji and the marshal.”

“What we share is special,” said Théra. “There will never be another like you. You hear the voice in my heart when I hum a hesitant tune. You’re the mirror of my soul, Zomi, my wakeful weakness.”

Zomi squeezed her hand in response, too overcome by emotion to speak.

“But our lives should be large enough to contain multitudes of loves,” said Théra. “I have never liked those tales that define an entire life by a romance. Remember Luan Zyaji’s poem?

“Zyaji spoke of many loves in his life, only one of which was romance. He spoke of friendship, of filial devotion, of amour, of grandness of soul, of loving your work—we’re defined by the web of our loves, not one grand romance.”

“But Dara needs you,” said Zomi. “I need you! Don’t go.”

“Dara will be fine with Mother and Phyro in charge, and you and Cogo Yelu to assist them. Father has done much to prepare the soil of Dara to accept a woman as ruler, and his work, though meant for me, will serve Mother well.

“I am a daughter of the House of Dandelion, and it’s my destiny to seek out new lands, to see new sights, to fill my heart with the rhythm and cadence of another people’s hopes and dreams. A wise lady once told me that my flower is the current-riding lotus, just as yours is the fiery Pearl of Fire. You are meant to change the landscape, to pioneer new paths, to challenge what exists with what may be envisioned. And I’m meant to seek a new home far from home, where I may bloom and create a new world. Riding the whale’s way, I will go farther than any dandelion seed; I will lead a revolution.”

“I have never had much patience with the passive mysticism of the Fluxists—”

“Zomi, my love, discerning and accepting the Flow of life is not passivity. I strive to dissolve the sorrows of two peoples.”

After a while, Zomi nodded, but she couldn’t help the tears streaming down her face. “You speak of destiny, yet what is destiny but accumulated chance made into a story in retrospect?”

“Perhaps you’re right. But this is the way I want to tell my story. I love you, Zomi, but this is what I want. Respect that.”

“So this is the end, then?”

Théra shook her head. “Just because we’ll be apart doesn’t mean that our love ends. You and I will both have many other loves, many grand romances and devotions and enlargements of the soul. But this is our first, and it will always be special. No matter how much time passes or how far apart we are, our love will remain true. We’re dyrans streaking past each other in the vast deep, but our shared lightning-flash will illuminate the darkness ahead until we are embraced by the eternal storm.”

Zomi wiped her eyes. “You would have done well in the Grand Examination. You composed beautifully.”