Beauty and Terror

Requiem of the Moth S02 C03

Content warning¹

"Usira! Thank the moth, you are here."

As soon as he enters the Isvalri courtyard, he is pulled aside by a strong hand—just in time, before several messengers barrel through the front gate into the city. The flap of bat wings stirs his hair, yelled commands and cries fill the air.

"By the Deep, what…"

Selin, who pulled him aside, gesticulates. "A stroke of terrible luck. I guess we've been blessed with good fortune for too long. Makes people suspicious. Oh, what are we going to do!"

Usira rolls his eyes. "Spit it out."

"Someone up the cliff, they have fallen ill after eating one of our moths. There is talk of… poisoning," he whispers. "Go to your father, he…"

"He will have orders for me. Got it."

He ignores Selin mumbling about leaving the family to be led by lantern fish² and crosses the courtyard. The door to his father's office is open. His knock on the frame is swallowed by familiar voices in heated discussion.

"How dare you suggest we would…" His mother.

"I know!" His father. "I know we are not to blame but once they're out of critical condition, once they start thinking about how it happened, they will grasp at the most likely culprit: this family. Our reputation will be ruined!"

"They cannot prove anything! The only record of where those moths came from is in this room."

Usira's father sighs. "The clans will accuse us, with or without proof. Why would they believe us?"

"Why would they… We are the most reputable moth catchers in Kandamsin, in all of Sedrivaris!" his mother hisses.

In the blue-green glowshroom light, his father is unruffled as usual. His mother is red-faced, with glacier blue eyes shooting daggers. "Mother, father," Usira says. "Apologies for my late arrival. I only just heard what happened. Now, do we have a plan?"

"Thank the moth," his father says, sinking into his chair as if Usira had offered to manage his wife for him. He waves a slim hand. "Please explain to your mother what must be done."

Usira stands up straight and ticks off each point on his fingers. "First, we must track how the illness progresses. Provide doctors, medicine, care. They will forbid us from seeing the victims but we must learn as much as possible about the condition. Second, we must investigate which specimen or specimens caused the illness, how they were brought into the city and where they were caught. We might have more contamination in our cages so delivery should be halted for now. Third, we must frequently report to the clan about our investigation, keep apologizing for our grave oversight but also assure them that we are not at fault."

"Good," his father says.

His mother gives a grudging nod. "And which role would you assign yourself?"

He knows what she wants to hear but dreads it all the same. "Clan liaison."

---

"You lot are not welcome here. Please leave at once."

Usira stifles a grimace. As one of the smaller clans, Caxian resides in a villa nestled against the back wall, close to the cliff but with no view or other advantages to speak of. Still, their walls are decorated with colourful tapestries depicting famous theatre scenes and the servants he passes in the corridors wear tunics of higher quality than in other clan mansions.

They are also, without exception, beautiful—as is the maidservant blocking the door to Caxian Lien's living quarters. When Usira doesn't budge, she shifts her crystal-clear eyes, almost as pale as his own, to the servant at his side. "You had orders to turn away anyone in lavender robes!"

The young man shrinks back. "He said he needed to examine the victims…"

The maidservant rolls her eyes. "Sun-struck fool. Honestly, this time I will report you."

Usira is about to interject and point out that he wants to cure the victims as much as any doctor, possibly more, when the door behind the maidservant opens. Out steps a graceful lady in white clan robes, collar and seams embroidered in vibrant red flowers and swirls. Her silvery hair is piled on top of her head, her eyelids and lips dusted with the same shade of red as her wardrobe. "What is this ruckus?" she hisses. "Lien has been restless enough as it is. Well?"

"Lady Yulie, I presume?" Usira asks before the maidservant can explain and sketches a deep bow. Gaudy or not, Yulie is still Lien's mother and head of clan Caxian. "Isvalri Usira. On behalf of my family, allow me to express my condolences and deepest regrets about what has happened. All our efforts go towards investigating this mishap and finding a cure for your relatives as soon as possible. I only wish to examine them."

"Mishap?" Lady Yulie echoes. "We know who is to blame. Your only mistake is thinking we will welcome and indulge you again."

"As I said, we deeply regret…"

"Be gone, now," the lady hisses and shuts the door to her daughter's living quarters behind her.

Usira ignores the maidservant's smug gaze until they have turned a corner. "I haven't been offered any refreshments yet," he says to the servant boy.

The boy frowns. "Lady Yulie said..."

"The kitchens will be fine. Let's stop there on the way out."

His guide relaxes. Usira waits a handful of breaths until he remarks, as if talking to himself: "I wonder... Did you do something to that maidservant or is she this harsh to everyone?"

As expected, the boy jumps at the opportunity to chat. "No, sir, she's just devoted to mistress Lien. Everyone loves the young mistress."

"Her mother must treat you well to inspire such devotion to the family."

The boy lowers his voice. "Mistress is very strict. I think it's because other clans look down on her, because of..."

"Because of...?"

"You know, sir." He presses his lips together. "Her heritage."

Lady Yulie was born a commoner, an actress who has been adopted into the clan by the previous head, a childless matriarch. Caxian has long been known for body care and beauty products as well as for their patronage of the performing arts. Adopting commoners, however, is rarely done, for fear of tainting bloodline and reputation alike. Larger clans would never accept anyone other than a born noble as clan head. Usira is not surprised to learn that even Caxian, small as it is, barely gets away with it.

The boy hovers in the kitchen doorway as the cook brews herb tea. Usira takes his time, setting the cup down after every tiny sip.

Then an older servant walks in, depositing a tray on the worktop. "How is she?" she asks.

The cook shrugs. "No change. If you ask me, her mother better give her some room to breathe. Hearty vegetable broth, that's what she needs, not weak tea or candied sweets."

"They say her stomach is terribly bloated..."

The cook snorts as he stirs his pot. "Of course, she ate something bad. They should've given her charcoal to bind the poison first. Obviously nobody's made her throw up yet. Whatever it was, she needs to get it out, then vegetable broth. A little at a time."

Usira is impressed. That sort of knowledge... Does he moonlight as apothecary? If he wasn't trying to be a fly on the wall, he would have asked.

"Poison?" the maidservant gasps.

"Didn't she get sick after that party yesterday? The one for the new play?"

"But who would've poisoned our sweet Lien?"

Usira gulps some tea to hide his eyeroll.

The cook leaves his pot, leaning over the table with a smirk. "Someone who envies the Caxians their delicacies, maybe? No idea how they got their hands on that cinnamon. Anyway, I was slaving half a day over those wrapped bugs, getting them nice and tender inside, all the while those scary purples were breathing down my neck."

"Scary alright. The have to be, to survive out there," the maidservant agrees and Usira tries not to choke. This is how others see his profession? The cooling tea leaves a bitter aftertaste on his tongue.

"Whatever." The cook leans back. "If it was poison, it must've already been inside the things when they were delivered. They kept me in here all day yesterday, like a sun-cursed prisoner."

"You poor thing," the maidservant croons.

"I wouldn't say no to some consolation…" Placing both hands on the table, he leans forward again.

She giggles.

Usira drains his tea and leaves the pair to their flirting. The cook might or might not realize that he is a prime suspect—either way, Usira is not about to point it out. He has heard enough to return to the records in his father's office, to check which pupae were delivered yesterday and how they were cooked.

Author Notes

Requiem of the Moth has been gathering dust for some weeks—work, life, shiny new idea syndrome. In retrospect, I was good about writing every day for a while and then just stopped caring so it might have been a needed break.

Anyway, this chapter is one I wrote before the break. It feels like I could almost return to it, publishing this might help speed the process up.

1. mentions of moths, illness, elitism

2. Sedrvassa saying meaning "leaving them to the wolves", as the lantern fish that dwell in deep lakes usually lead their prey to be devoured by bigger fish, in hopes of feeding on leftovers.