Candied Words
Requiem of the Moth #7
Content warning1
The clans never need an excuse to show off their wealth and mercantile connections yet the yearly Trade Fair is exactly that.
As Yun observes the last preparations from a secluded balcony, he wonders when and how the grand moth display will go down. Servants, merchants, and moth catchers mill around in the five connected and vaulted caverns chosen as its venue. Every year, a different clan is asked to host the Trade Fair. This year, the honor has fallen to An Don, the clan of the acting Vesilim. Their mansion is austere, as befits a family of orators and legal experts, although Yun has spotted a handful of proverbs and legal principles inscribed on arches and alcoves on his way in.
The caverns are filling up with low-ranked clan members and officials well before the official opening.
When Yun scans the crowd again, he finds Usira and Yvara whispering furiously in a corner. They're wreathed in shadows but by now, he knows the moth catcher well enough to recognize the tall silhouette, the braid. They gesture animatedly. Eventually, Yvara leaves, probably hurrying back to her mistress.
She will blab about Usira's connection to their clan. Vy would've found out sooner or later anyway, he muses. He'd do well to think about next moves—hers as well as his.
He leans on the stone railing, watching, as Usira straightens and slips back into the crowd. His movements are unlike any Yun has ever seen in a mansion like this, more graceful and more aware of his surroundings than any of them. Even in the city, he never stops being the hunter.
Out in the unbuilt tunnels, he was magnificent. The memory eclipses the shock of being poisoned—even though the weakness, the shivers were terrifying enough.
Usira didn't have to save him. Yun still doesn't know why he did, and whatever it is, it tugs at him like a paper cut.
No. He shakes himself. The Trade Fair is his chance to feel out the mood, approach potential allies. If he is to gain an advantage over Vy, he needs to keep his wit sharp, arguments and bribes ready in his sleeve.
Eventually, Yun joins the other guests trickling into the caverns with Zhiven at his heel. Everyone involved in trade, whether interior or exterior, is officially invited and many others tag along to gawk at wares and personalities on display.
After the ritual and prayer to the Deep for another bountiful trade season, the speeches, and the unveiling of the moths, everyone samples the delicacies on offer. As a high official, Yun is entitled to a sliver of Blackvein wing that melts on his tongue.
As he mingles, trailed by Zhiven holding his wine glass and a plate of candied hibiscus, he spots Noe Shuli in the crowd. Izo's mother, and old ally of Zakiva, she is known as a connoisseur of gems and patroness of jewelers across the mountain. She raises her glass to him before gliding off towards a shadowed alcove.
When he reaches it, she is already perched on the cushioned stone ledge, puppet at her shoulder, and pats the space next to her with one red-nailed hand. When she speaks, a spark of mirth creeps into her deep voice. "Honorable Vessi. I must congratulate you on your promotion, albeit belatedly."
He bows his humble acceptance. "It's important to supervise the remote jewelry driphouses too. I'm sure you will have contributed much to our wealth when this season's tally time arrives."
After another round of polite compliments and humble dismissals, Yun takes a stab at the heart of the matter. "It has come to my attention that you're advocating for change."
In their world, change is synonymous with disruption.
Shuli gives him a shrewd look. "I am glad to learn the new Vessi does not disappoint. Yes, I might be looking to ally myself more closely with those who might act as a counterweight to our prodigious treasurer."
Counterweight—or usurper, he thinks, keeping his expression blithe. "As Vessi, I have to maintain a certain distance to clan matters, of course, but… there might be options. There's one thing I'm curious about though."
"Go on," Shuli says, sipping her wine.
"Vylira controls the economic flow in our clan. Why not side with her?"
Shuli gestures. "Precisely. She is too good. No one person should have this much power over all of us."
Yun grins, leaning into the light and enjoying how she flinches away from his marred face. "And what makes you think I'm different?"
"True, there is a certain prestige that comes with being Vessi but in the end—forgive me—it is just an empty title. The treasurer, on the other hand, cannot antagonize too many people or they end up sabotaging themself. Vylira is the strongest diplomat we have seen in decades but many of us are not happy with her… methods."
Blackmail is what Vy excels at.
"If all I have is an empty title, why side with me over others?" Yun asks.
Shuli pretends to consider this, tapping her lips with one crimson nail, although she must have thought about her answer long and hard before approaching him. "You will never make the mistake of flaunting your power like Vylira is doing. Distasteful. You know it can always be taken away again. That is your strength."
"If you know so much about me, surely you know I work alone."
"You'll never rise to greatness then," she says, waving a hand.
Her abrupt dismissal says: Reveal your true game to me or this conversation is over. It's the invitation he's been waiting for.
He signals to Zhiven. "Unlike Vylira, I will. You see, I have something in my possession that allows me to destroy her whenever I wish. Of course, I won't insult you by expecting your support on goodwill alone. Name your price. I'm sure we'll come to an agreement."
Smiling, she accepts the fresh glass of wine and plate of candied hibiscus offered by his puppet. Negotiations begin.
Yun is too busy to exchange words or even glances with Usira. As he plucks the last Oat Sallows from his plate, their sweetness melting on his tongue, he is almost relieved. After Shuli, he met with his uncle Lisith and his cousin Cress, both of which are concerned about Vy. He has alliances to forge, information to gather, leverage to prepare.
Deep down, he is determined not to think about the graceful moth catcher which, of course, means he thinks about him all the time. He lingers in the margins, just out of reach, like his moths.
Of course, Yun thinks about Usira as he leaves the fair for the silent streets. Everyone is still at the mansion, playing the great game.
He thinks about Usira when he should've perked up.
He still thinks about Usira when a shadow slides behind him, when Zhiven cries out, and when piercing heat radiates from his left side.
At first, he's too shocked to utter a sound. Then, his instincts kick in. Whirling, he grapples with the attacker and crowds him into Zhiven. Unfortunately, puppets are too clumsy for close combat. The black-cloaked figure slips out from between them and is gone.
The heat has turned into fire trickling down his side and leg. His knees buckle. He hardly feels the cold rock as one thought repeats in his head. I am stabbed. I am stabbed. I am stabbed.
Author Notes
Recently, I've rediscovered my love for 4thewords, an online "writing game" where you battle monsters and complete quests by doing word sprints. This chapter was brainstormed and written in brief 4thewords sprints over the course of the last two weeks, with a 5-day break in which a friend from Germany stayed over and we bonded over the absurdity that is Revolutionary Girl Utena. Anyway, I think it's safe to say I am addicted to 4thewords—can't abandon my writing streak now!
Plot-wise, it doesn't feel like the halfway point even though Requiem of the Moth has hit the 10.000 word mark. Somehow I'm still sowing seeds for later, as if writing something much longer than a serial. Dear readers, does this feel like a short(ish) or a long story to you? I'm still not used to things happening fast from the get go but who knows, I still have a lot of words to go. Maybe I'll manage to rein in this rampant story and tie it up nicely after all.
blood, violence, mentions of moths