Sleeper

Requiem of the Moth S03 C01

Content warnings¹

Usira wakes in an unfamiliar bed with the softest grey sheets he has ever felt, like smoke under his fingertips. The lone glowshroom on the dresser illuminates severe iron furniture, fine jewels gleaming on trays. A faint scent of spice hangs in the air. There’s only one place he can think of he might have been brought to in his exhaustion, after Yun brought him back from certain exile and proposed to him in front of the clans.

He stands, belting his silk nightgown. Beyond the door, he finds a reception room, sparse and cold as a crypt. The two familiar puppets by the tea table turn in unison when he steps out.

“Where’s Yun?”

“At work,” Zhiven says. Meanwhile, Zhiva prepares tea and arranges covered plates on a tray.

Usira waits but no more explanation is forthcoming. Of course, puppets only answer to direct questions. They wouldn’t be able to read his confusion or anticipate what other information he is missing. “Are these his quarters in the Noe clan mansion?”

“Yes,” Zhiven confirms.

Now that he’s not half-dead on his feet, the enormity of what happened since his return to Kandamsin weighs down on Usira, crushing him. Bonded to a Noe. And not just any Noe—the Vessi and clan treasurer.

“I have to visit my family,” he blurts out as Zhiva takes the lids off steaming dishes. Usira’s stomach growls but neither hunger nor the inviting scent registers in his head. “The Isvalri drip house,” he adds when neither of the puppets comment.

“We were instructed to feed you and see to your every need here.”

Did Yun expect him to sit around and wait for his return? If so, he’s out of luck. When asked, Zhiva lays out an everyday outfit with nondescript hooded overcoat on the bed. The puppets seem perplexed but they don’t stop him from leaving.

He remembers Yun proclaiming his innocence but the city still feels hostile. He keeps the hood up until he enters his family home. The inner courtyard is a whirlwind of activity, his father’s office knotted with relatives and clan messengers.

Yun has kept his word, after all—his family is recovering. They’re overjoyed to see him again and congratulate him when he tells them what happened after his return. Two drips later, Usira waits by a side gate until a familiar face melts out of the shadows.

“You look well, friend.” Melyi smiles. “I must admit, I checked the Elimen’s Mouth² earlier than planned, hoping for a message from you. Apologies for not being of much help. If the rumours are true, it all worked out in your favour though.”

Sensing his curiosity, Usira nods towards the alley. “Not to worry, there’s still something you can help with. Care for a walk?”

The walk morphs into a climb. Usira is determined to burn off his restless energy and Melyi is determined to tread where they cannot be eavesdropped on. When Usira doesn’t speak immediately, Melyi takes the lead through narrow tunnels, traversing ledges past sheer drops into the Deep, following glittering turquoise veins in the mountain. He’s familiar with the warrens surrounding the city, more so than Usira, who has always hunted farther away from civilisation.

After half a drip, Usira is out of breath. It’s Melyi who insists on a break. “No shame in exhaustion after everything you’ve endured.”

With a frustrated huff, Usira leans against a narrow ledge jutting from the wall. They’ve reached a clearing, the ceiling high enough to stand and softly illuminated in blue. “I’ve never liked making excuses for weakness, however valid they may be.”

Melyi hands over a hip flask. “What is it you wanted to ask of me?”

Usira hesitates but they haven’t seen another sentient being in over a drip. This is as good a place as any. “Let me join Ithreyesh.”

Melyi’s mild features cloud. “I can guess what brought this on but it might not be the solution you’re looking for.”

“Why not? I haven't accepted Yun’s proposal but I'm already at a severe disadvantage. All my yarns as moth catcher won’t help me once I’m… up the cliff. I’ll have nothing. You said your organisation needs me specifically. I’m willing to help in exchange for information and influence with the clans.”

“What makes you think we have that influence?”

Usira rolls his eyes. “No need to play coy. You’ve clearly made some progress, otherwise you wouldn’t have spoken about your goals that openly with me. How long has Ithreyesh been around?”

“More perceptive than I thought.” Melyi grins. “He might have already taught you more than you realise.”

Usira hands back the flask. “I’m not willing to rely on him alone. Our relationship has never been stable, I suspect it will only get worse.” When Melyi is silent, he pushes off the seat. “Think about it if you want.”

Another half drip later, they emerge into the low, oddly angled mess of hole-in-the-wall eateries and pawnbrokers that is the outskirts of Kandamsin. Melyi ducks into a tiny tea shop and leans over their cups, so close that Usira smells his breath: mint, crisp as a new silk robe. “There are certain conditions for becoming a regular member. The candidate has to give up their previous identity before they can be accepted into our ranks.”

When Usira lifts a brow, he supplies: “They have to die. Stage their own death so no one from their old life expects to ever see them again.”

“Dramatic.”

Melyi spreads his arms, as much as he can without knocking into the patrons to his right and left. “You can’t do that, obviously. Your new status as his betrothed has only increased your value. I might be able to convince them to make you an irregular member. A sleeper, if you will.”

“Yes.” Usira drains his glass and sets it down on the table with a bright clink. “You told me we need to push back against the clans. Where’s your passion now? I’m uniquely positioned and ready to act but I need intelligence and direction. It’s a perfect match.”

Melyi sighs, massaging his brow. “Very well. I will inquire.”

Under the exasperation, Usira is sure he sees a spark of intrigue. “Thank you.”

“Whether you’re accepted or not, there’s a some advice about clan society I can give you right now. The first few days are crucial to how you’re perceived, treated, and judged,” Melyi begins, leaning even closer. Usira listens with every fibre of his battered body as he explains.

---

“As I said, he is your weakness.”

“You only said helping him would weaken my social standing.” Under Ulan’s piercing gaze, Yun crosses his office and hurls himself into his desk chair. He’s neglected his Vessi duties for far too long and the Great Council doesn’t need another reason to be displeased with him.

“We’re beyond nit-picking, dear ally.” She perches on his desk corner. “What’s done is done. You have to be careful not slip up in public. Deny that he means anything to you. Your dramatic gesture has caused ripples in society. They’ll use every opportunity to get the rest of the story out of you but you must insist that it was pure calculation.”

Staring at the ledger in front of him, Yun tightens his grip on the quill. “I don’t recall appointing you as my personal advisor.”

Ulan ignores him. “Usira too. He will be treated as a clan member starting now but he’s not used to public scrutiny. He must be instructed about how to converse, how to conduct himself, and soon.”

“Are you volunteering?” he snaps.

She scoffs. “I’m merely here to make sure that our precious patron will be able to patronise us for a while longer. I will act as advisor, yes, if needed. I am not, however, a private tutor for your little plaything.”

Yun is up and has the tip of the quill pointed at Ulan’s right eye before she can blink once. “I would advise you to watch your tongue.”

They both know that Ulan could’ve danced out of his reach. Yet she hasn’t, which says more than her next words. “Forgive me, I merely wanted to make you listen. I do not recommend getting involved with him in any way. You can't take back the proposal, obviously, but keep him as far away as you dare.”

Slowly, he retreats and sits. A smattering of ink has stained the ledger, tiny compared to his outburst of emotion. He sneers at it, as if that will erase it. “I will consider it.”

“Yun…”

“No.”

Sighing, she slides off the desk and paces in front of it, occasionally glancing at his work. Yun is torn between barking at her to stop and refusing to utter another word. When Zhiva serves tea, she takes her cup and drains it in one gulp. “This is incorrect,” she says and points at a line. “This expense went to security for An Don Shio instead of Shenven. They were concerned after her strict ruling in the Shishiyyin case.”

Yun corrects the error. “Sun-blasted twins.”

Later, he asks Zhiva to serve candied roots and fresh tea. Ulan insinuates herself into his break by joining him at the fireplace and picking the ginger pieces off the platter. “There’s something else.”

“I’m glad you didn’t come just to provide advice I never asked for.” When she hesitates, nibbling on her ginger, he adds: “Out with it.”

“You never got any more leads about that assassination attempt, did you?”

Yun stares at her profile. “Are you offering?”

With effort, she tears her gaze from the flames and faces him. “It was us.”

Yun continues staring at Ulan, her flawless face radiating guilt for the first time he has known her. Again, he notes how familiar she is with him, as if they had been friends for many yarns. She has a nose for his moods—often gauging correctly but not always. This must be something she expects him to get angry over. “Explain.”

“The assassination attempt. It was us. We wanted to frame Vylira, of course. We also wanted to inspire a sense of urgency in you. Now that you know about us, you would do well to remember what we could do if you disregard our suggestions.”

She says all that with eerie calm but lacking any menace. Even as an Ithreyesh agent, Ulan is too clever not to have her own opinions about everything. Her body language tells him that she doesn't approve. *Interesting.*

He keeps her waiting for another moment before he smiles. “Wonderful.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don't play games with me. Not now.”

“I mean it, my dear intruder. All this time I've been stressed out of my mind thinking someone out there still wanted me dead. Our past communications tell me that Ithreyesh doesn’t want me dead anymore, they’re just warning me against crossing them. Well, the warning has been received. I am suitably impressed and ready to pay my dues.”

She stares at him for another breath, then nods. “Good.” Draining the last of her tea, she stands. “I’ll be back soon.”

It's progress, Yun thinks, that she now deigns to bid him goodbye before disappearing without a trace.

Author Notes

Welcome back to Requiem of the Moth! Can you believe it’s already season three? It’s been so long since I published season two that I’ve forgotten what I usually talk about in these author notes.

Since the last ended with a bang, for this chapter I wanted to take a step back and check in with both Usira and Yun, to see how they were doing, what they were struggling with, who they were talking to. The web of relationships is getting ever more complex, to the point where I probably need a chart to keep track of everyone and their (changing) motivations. It might be fun to check in with older characters too, bring them back for a chapter or two.

One of my goals for this story arc is to utilise a little more planning ahead and foreshadowing. At the moment, I’ve built up a buffer of several chapters, which I hope to keep up in the following weeks and months.

Either way, I hope you’re as excited as I am to revisit Yun and Usira, our ruthless clan official and incorruptible moth catcher, now stuck together for good. It might not be as action-packed (hah) as previous seasons — their main challenge will be navigating society and life as a bonded couple but I hope you will nevertheless keep following their story and let me know your thoughts in the comments!

1. Mention of murder

2. See the author notes from S02 C09 if you need a refresher on what an Elimen’s Mouth is.