Sonami stared. “Mother is not infinitely cruel.”
They started the cart moving again. As it slid back through the walls of water, Sonami said, “I will make sure the children are taken care of. I will look after them myself.”
Their voice, although small, was cool and calm. The Head Abbot imagined that in maturity, Sonami might sound not so different from their mother.
He asked, “Will your mother allow that?”
“She will. I’ll make sure of it.”
The Head Abbot looked out at the marvels passing by without comment. How easily she had outmaneuvered him. He had stumbled in like a baby rabbit, eyes fused shut, and she had been the fox lying in wait, licking its chops. Here, at last, was the true face of the woman who had taken the derelict Protectorate of her ancestors—a feeble nation cowering in the shadow of almost-forgotten glories—and expanded it until her iron grip controlled more than half of known Ea.
Sonami said, “Venerable One, do you believe in the power of the fortunes?”
“Of course, child. They are what guides us and shapes the Slack.”
The child nodded. “The fortunes didn’t give Mother twins for no reason. That means that if there’s a plan, she’s not the one controlling it. And that does make me feel better.” A small, brief smile overtook their face. “Perhaps this is for the best.”
The Head Abbot blinked. This child, features still cushioned by the fat of innocence, spoke with the quiet confidence many took a lifetime to achieve. He had always suspected they were extraordinary, and not just because of their proficiency with slackcraft. When Sonami had first approached him with a desire to be admitted to the monastery, he had thought that with the right guidance, the child might one day grow up to take his place as Head Abbot, with all the secrets tied to that office.
Now none of them would ever know. That version of the future had been sealed off from them.
“Perhaps this is for the best,” he agreed.
Chapter Two
YEAR SIX
THE MASSIVE CART THAT came from the Great High Palace was one of those that filled the width of streets in processions, painted lucky red and silk-draped in yet more red. Head Abbot Sung stood at the top of the stairs and watched its bright, meandering passage up the road that led to the Grand Monastery. The morning fog had long since retreated from the tree-embroidered mountains that formed Chengbee’s backbone, and the light breeze scattered cherry blossom petals around his sandals.
The Head Abbot stood tall, but privately he was glad that the twins were coming to him, instead of the other way around. It was a long way down the mountain, and a long way up to the Great High Palace, and in recent years his knees had begun to hurt during the morning rituals and when thunderstorms were coming. The onset of age was like a dam breaking: slowly at first, then all at once.
Sonami was the first to exit the cart, a graceful figure wrapped in a light silk dress the color of chrysanthemums and jade. She had chosen her gender the same year the twins were born and had grown well into that role. As a young woman of twenty, she had her mother’s height, and the fine features of her face bore more than a passing resemblance to the Protector’s.
Two near-identical children tumbled out of the cart behind her, laden with packs. One landed with their soles a hip’s width apart, fists lightly curled, balancing on the balls of their feet. The child with the mismatched eyes. The other one straightened up and stared at the Head Abbot with an intensity that was unnerving for one so young.
The Head Abbot bowed to them, and Sonami bowed back. “Venerable One,” she said. “Allow me to introduce you to your new charges.”
She touched the first child on their shoulder. “This is Mokoya.” She tapped the second one, whose wide dark eyes remained fixed on the Head Abbot. “And this is Akeha.”
“I welcome you to the Grand Monastery,” the Head Abbot said. “Today you embark on a new journey of learning and discipline.”
The children said nothing. The first child’s face presented a scowl, while the second one didn’t even blink.
“Go on,” Sonami said gently.
A junior monk and nun waited behind the Head Abbot. “Go with them,” he told the children. “They will show you to your rooms.”
The children looked at each other, and the Head Abbot felt something pass between them in the Slack, as though they were communicating. He looked quizzically at Sonami, who only smiled.
The children seemed to come to an agreement, and that agreement was not to put up a fight. Silently and perfunctorily, they trudged after the waiting acolytes.
The first child, the odd-eyed one, took fewer than ten steps before their resolve shattered. They dropped their pack and ran back to Sonami, clutching the fine silk of her dress in their fists.
“Mokoya,” Sonami sighed. She dropped to one knee and took the child’s hands in her own. “We’ve talked about this.”
“Why can’t you come with us?” A tremor belied the stubborn pout in their voice.
“Because I’m going to the Tensorate academy. Today you begin training for monastic life. Head Abbot Sung will take care of you. All right?”
Their face folded up, equal parts rage and grief. Sonami said, “And you have Akeha. You have each other; you won’t be alone.”
The other child walked over and put a hand on their sibling’s shoulder. The first flung themselves at Sonami in a desperate hug.
Sonami held them. “Go on. You know this is what Mother wants.”
The child detached from Sonami’s grasp and took their sibling’s hand. Without a word, they marched, sibling and all, back to where the acolytes waited with the abandoned pack. The Head Abbot had expected tears, but none remained. They did not turn back to look at Sonami again.
The other child pinned the Head Abbot with an intense, baleful gaze as they walked by.
Sonami got to her feet with a sigh and watched the twins go. “They are good children,” she said softly. “Understandably upset about leaving the only home they’ve ever known. But once the pain wears off, they’ll give you no trouble.” With a touch of amusement, she added, “Well, not much trouble, in any case.”
The Head Abbot studied the young woman now standing before him. The two of them had barely spoken in the last five years; the Head Abbot’s messages through the talker network had been gently but firmly rebuffed. He had tried for a long time to divine if this distance was the Protector’s doing or Sonami’s choice, but in the end had concluded that he had to respect and accept it. As with all things in life.
“You raised these children yourself,” he observed.
Sonami nodded.
“I must confess I’m surprised. Did your mother not intend for you to enter the Tensorate before this?”
Sonami smiled slightly. “We agreed that I would do so after the children had been transferred to the Grand Monastery.”
“Such concessions come with a price. What did you promise her in return?”