Shrouds of Silk, Keys of Silver

Requiem of the Moth #10

Content warning¹

Usira watches the shrouded body being lowered into the crevice on long silk sashes. The fabric is all but translucent, much more finely woven than Yvara's family would be able to afford. The lowering is accompanied by trickling sounds from two small tongue drums, played by Yvara's father and sister. Not quite a melody, it perfectly expresses the loss and grief they must be feeling.

To Usira, the effect is hypnotising and he finds his mind drifting to the one who paid for the silk, the exquisite shroud and funeral robes. She must've left Kandamsin by now. Where is she going and how far has she come?

It's better that he doesn't know.

If he did, he'd likely use that knowledge against Yun—not a good idea.

Not because Yun doesn't deserve it, oh, he does but because it would be too risky for Usira and his driphouse. After what Yun did—but you started it, the small voice at the back of his head supplies—he wants to toss a can of icy water on the white-hot spark still lodged in his chest. He wants to wring Yun's neck and watch Yun's ember eyes flicker for the last time.

But he can't, and what a cruel reminder of the state of things.

After the body has been lowered and the sashes rolled up to adorn the family shrine, Usira pays his respects to Yvara's parents and sister. They're beside themselves with grief and don't recognize their neighbour. He leaves early.

There's nothing he can do or say, not anymore, not to anyone. Usira goes back to his driphouse and his profession as moth catcher.

---

Up the cliff, Yun dozes through Zakiva's speech and jumps up when his name is called. Her yellow gaze is disapproving but she nevertheless hands him the heavy silver key to the treasury and fastens the chain around his neck.

Yun gives the ceremonial bow but his chin remains high, his gaze on her. Shuli and Lisith bear witness along with the others, strengthening his claim in exchange for the privileges he will grant them as new treasurer. Without Vylira, your position has grown precarious, and you know it, he wordlessly warns the clan leader.

Zakiva shrinks back, one hand flying to the teardrop-shaped zircon dangling from her ear. Her hair, too, is threaded with zircons, her trademark gems. She thinks they bring out her eyes. Yun thinks them tacky, too sun-like—not that he's ever seen the sun, thank the Deep.

Everyone turns and bows to the ancestor shrine. The older the clan, the larger the shrine: This one is a massive wrought iron contraption with countless gates, doors, and latches, behind which dwell the spirits of noteworthy Noe throughout history. Many consider a place among their ancestors the ultimate accomplishment.

Yun doesn't. He leaves the ceremonial hall as soon as he can.

When he gets to his quarters in the city, Zhiva and Zhiven are arranging the last of Vy's ledgers on his desk. While Zhiva prepares tea—ginger, not hibiscus, never again—in the corner, he flips through the most recent book.

The tea must still be on his mind because he spots the pattern after a handful of pages. He goes through the entire book, then the previous one. Several drips later, he is sure of one thing: In addition to the money, significant amounts of hibiscus tea have gone missing as well. Even when subtracting the amounts Vy takes out of each shipment for herself and for him, a little over forty pinches have vanished.

Unlike other goods passing through the treasury, Vy always keeps the hibiscus close by for easy access. Fortunately, her records are immaculate. When he checks her recent visitors, the only name other than his own that pops up frequently is Noe Izo.

Yun downs the rest of his tea and stands. He starts pacing, catching Zhiven's eye by the door. "Of course," he exclaims. "Who would care this much about a pinch of sun-blasted cinnamon?"

"My lord?" Zhiva asks, looking up from the fire she has been feeding, but Yun is too agitated to hear. "And how clever, to distract us by playing us against each other! He was always underfoot. Shuli must be in on it, too." He stills. "It might be her plan to begin with. Izo can't be that bright. I mean, have you seen the guy?"

"My lord, I don't understand."

Yun blinks, then stalks back to his desk to hide his unease. He expected to see a pair of ice-blue eyes, braided white hair, and lavender robes. A clueless puppet will never be able to talk back like he did.

Then again, Yun hates back talk.

More importantly, Vy wasn't lying. She didn't send the assassin, after all. Shuddering, Yun gestures for Zhiven to lock and bar the door.

His would-be murderer still walks free.

Author Notes

Aaand this concludes the first arc of Requiem of the Moth! If you stuck with it until now, please let me know! First comment will earn my eternal gratitude and… how about some dried hibiscus flowers in the mail? No?

To be honest, I think Vy's climax at the temple is a little weak. Yun never stops being in control (if you ignore the relationship disaster with Usira) and overall, it doesn't feel as exciting as it could be. I'm definitely marking chapter 9 for a rewrite although I'm not sure when that will happen—I'm revising my sci-fi novel too and try to avoid having two projects in the same writing stage at the same time.

This chapter had two bits of impromptu worldbuilding: the funeral and units of measurement. For the funeral, I asked myself: How would a people that worship the deepest, darkest parts of the mountains want to lay their dead to rest? The where was easy but I added the silk shrouds to show how central that fabric is to Sedrivar culture and economy. Produced by domesticated silk moths, it is one of their chief export goods.

This was inspired by Kassia St. Clair's The Golden Thread which I used to illustrate how I worldbuild in this article:

The Thread That Glows in the Dark

In China, silk was included in graves too although some inventories exaggerated the amounts. A document from one tomb that was sealed in 548 listed 1,000 pieces of brocade, 10,000 of damask and one piece of yarn 1,000,090,000 feet long, "which it airily explained would be used 'for climbing to heaven'". The Sedrivar, I imagine, would rather climb down to the roots of the mountains they live in… hence their particular funeral rite. In this chapter, Yvara's shroud and clothing was paid for by Vylira so it must be of excellent quality.

As for units of measurement, some cursory research (let me know if I got it wrong!) revealed that the most widely used historical unit of mass is the grain. Now, this doesn't really work for an underground civilization with basically no farming. Since it's just a detail mentioned on the side, I settled for pinch for small amounts (think gram). 1,000 pinches make… one bar, as in steel bar? Steel serves as main building material in place of wood so why not? On the other hand, it could easily cause confusion with our metric unit of pressure.

How do you like the steel bar? More importantly, how will Usira and Yun meet again and what will they get up to in the next arc? I'll write more on what I learned from writing Requiem of the Moth soon. For now, let me know your thoughts in the comments!

1. Mentions of death & grief