Beware of Inclement Weather

Requiem of the Moth S02 C04

Noe Izo is a snail. From the moment they have left the basket lift until they crest the top of the first hill, Izo has been keeping a plodding pace but also had enough air to complain. Yun decides he must be in worse physical condition than anyone he has ever met—including Yun himself or rather, the pathetic nobody he was eight years ago.

"Hard to believe you have never been here before, cousin," he says over the sound of harsh breathing.

Before them lies a valley of rare vegetation: a series of shallow pools, framed by tousled shrubs, ferns, clusters of mushroom and moss, even some spindly trees. Iridescent bugs dart close to the water, birdsong softens the air. So close to the surface, the rock does not carry any mineral veins but there is still a diffuse glow—the faintest echoes of sunlight, their Silvedhri guide claims. No one stays longer than a few stalactite drips at a time, fearful of losing their sight to the glare.

Still, the sheer lushness of the place fascinates. Early clanspeople, the only ones with the means and leisure to come out to the underground bog, have dubbed it the Zillia Downs.

"I… I have never chanced upon the right company," Izo finally replies.

"We must allow you to savour this visit, then," Yun says and marches on toward the nearest pool, followed by their guide, silent save for warnings and answers to direct questions, and Zhiven.

Not to be outdone by a puppet—even one with better coordination than anyone else has fabricated—Izo and his servant hurry to keep up.

They circle the pool on a narrow path, exchanging trade news and gossip. A cave-in in a large mine has driven up silver prices. The trade season is shaping up to be a prosperous one, with mild weather and peaceful borders. The former head of clan Meruun has purchased a pair of canaries and is telling everyone within earshot of his ambitious breeding plans.

On an outcropping thick with fleshy vines, the guide calls a break. Crackers and algae wine are produced. Yun is debating how to weave cinnamon and attempted murder into the conversation when Izo pipes up: "Isn't that the moth catcher?"

"Who?" Taken aback, Yun blinks at him. There is only one moth catcher that comes to mind but surely Izo cannot mean him?

When he follows Izo's gaze, however, he chills. Two pale silhouettes are crouching on a lower cliff across the valley, only a thin layer of moss covering naked stone. When the taller one stands and turns, a familiar long braid sways with the movement. While Yun watches, they start towards the nearest lake and disappear between the ferns.

"Your pet. Although you haven't kept him around much recently, no? He is a commoner, after all. They all lose their appeal eventually."

Look who's talking. Yun refrains from pointing out that Izo is more of a pet than Usira will ever be. No information has ever been gained by insulting and alienating the other party, after all.

"There are rare moths to catch here," he merely says before signaling Zhiven to pack up. "The Downs provide a number of valuable ingredients… even cinnamon has been found here." Ironic that his appearance has given Yun the excuse he needed to mention the spice.

"What are you insinuating?" Izo squawks, startling a cloud of tiny birds out of the ferns nearby.

"Merely that cinnamon has been in high demand. You must know that it will be difficult to honour our agreement going forward. I will have to increase the price."

"This... I am..."

"How about substituting it with something less expensive? I hear ginger has been..."

"Psh, ginger isn't what she..." Izo trails off.

"My dear Izo," Yun purrs. "You are getting the cinnamon for your own use, are you not?"

"Of course I am!" Izo blusters.

Yun kneels on the slippery lakeshore, ignoring the guide's "careful, honourable one", and dips two fingers into the lukewarm water. Three steps to their left, the bumpy terrain and gnarly shrubs have formed stagnant pools thick with flies and other things. Suddenly, a green-grey moth flutters up and disappears in the overhead foliage.

"This," Yun whispers, "was a particularly large Herb Hawk Moth. Did you know that the dust from their wings is venomous?"

Gasping, Izo staggers back into his servant. "T-This is most peculiar knowledge you have acquired, honourable Vessi."

After his accidental poisoning, Yun has paid attention and asked a few well-placed questions. Izo does not need to know that only the females of this particular species are poisonous and that the moth they saw, with its grey-green colouring, is a male.

"I only wish to know everything that might bring harm to me. Whether to my physical health or to... my position." He observes carefully but there is no change in Izo's facial expression. Then again, the Herb Hawk Moth might have exceeded the limit for how much disturbing news someone like Noe Izo is able to take.

Izo, however, surprises him by turning on his heel and fleeing into the ferns.

"Please, honourable one!" The poor guide, his reputation in balance, hurries after him.

Sighing, Yun follows. The thicket is only four to five steps wide but Izo is unused to foliage. He blusters and stomps ahead, volatile as rockfall.

Only the sound of unfamiliar voices stops them in their tracks.

"No!" Rustling, a curse and some words, the last two of which are "Please" and "Fine". Footsteps fade on the path. Far from protective, Yun nevertheless shoves Izo back between himself and Zhiven.

When the other speaker steps out of the ferns, his inkling is confirmed: Here is the face he has dreaded and hoped to see again. He has forgotten how tall Usira is—the necessity to look up into those glacier eyes vexing and delicious all at once. They have lost their hypnotising radiance, he notices, the skin sallow.

"Why…", he starts, at the same time Usira says: "You…"

They fall silent. The world has shrunk to just the two of them.

Usira sketches a funny little bow. "Yes, Vessi?"

"Catching moths?" Yun chokes out. How dare you, he wants to say. The Zillia Downs are not strictly off-limits to commoners but carry baskets are and the journey on foot too arduous to undertake for most. Those who come are botanists and gatherers, Silvedhri guiding their noble employers or passing through on their way to the surface, and... moth catchers sent out for rare prey.

"Scouting," Usira says but his breath hitches—sign of the abysmal liar Yun knows him to be. His gaze darts over Yun's shoulder.

"Izo, this is Usira, reputed moth catcher and representative of the Isvalri family. We have been sponsoring them."

"Of course, of course." Izo sneers before turning away, clearly not interested in the commoner he has written off as Yun's personal plaything. The guide lingers long enough to catch Yun's meaningful glance. After the Silvedhri, moth catchers are the most familiar with the Downs. For all he knows, Yun is safe with this one.

When they are alone, he prods: "Scouting?" Whether out of curiosity or merely to fill the silence, he cannot say.

"You must have been busy, Vessi, if you have not heard yet. Several members of clan Caxian have fallen ill after consuming moths provided by us. We are doing everything we can to get to the bottom of it, prevent further clanspeople from falling ill."

Hot anger rises in Yun, filling his cheeks until his scar itches. "You should have told me! I will likely be called on by the Caxian to mediate. The clans want me to solve all their problems, as if I knew everything going on in this sun-blasted city." Dimly aware he is swearing, he still cannot stop himself.

"You are the honourable Vessi, after all." Usira half-turns as if to invite him for a stroll. Yun recognizes the habit although there is little danger of being overheard out here. "Your skill in gathering sensible information is unrivaled in Kandamsin, perhaps even in all of Sedrivaris. If anyone can find out, it is you."

Humouring Usira, Yun says to his back: "Grovelling will not help you now."

Usira whispers something that sounds suspiciously like: "It wasn't me who retreated first."

Yun grits his teeth, sending gravel into the ferns with his strides. "This is a serious matter! You should have come to me. If we don't collaborate on this, both of us will be vulnerable to their attacks."

"As you say, Vessi. I am at your service."

It's not what Yun wants to hear, and Usira knows it. He doesn't even turn around to gauge Yun's reaction. As usual, Usira is right and there is nothing left for Yun to say. "Tell me everything," he growls.

The footpath ends at the foot of the cliff they were camping on earlier. Compared to Kandamsin, the height is laughable but the verdant landscape below their feet steals his breath. That, and Usira finally facing him.

"Very well."

Author Notes

Originally, Yun and Usira weren't supposed to meet again so soon. Let's imagine a few weeks have passed since that explosive day at the temple, the funeral and Yun taking over as treasurer for his clan. Weeks during which Usira's guilt and anger at Yun for keeping something as major as murder from him has quietly taken root and festered. Weeks during which Yun has realized despite himself that he has enjoyed having Usira around as a foil for his political machinations. What will he do now that his moral compass is gone?

Ultimately, it's more entertaining to pit them against each other than to keep them apart. Enemies to lovers to enemies… Did one brief moment of union make them lovers? I hope you're as excited as I am to follow these two as they (very ineptly) navigate their suddenly complicated relationship and everything that lingers unspoken between them.

And let's not forget the mysterious third party, the organization that Vylira sponsored and that approached Usira after Yvara's funeral. Who might they be? I'd love to read your guesses in the comments!