STONE MOON, SILK SCARVES



by M. C. A. Hogarth


Smashwords Edition 
Copyright 2011 M.C.A. Hogarth

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By all that's good and worthy, I hate funerals. I thought it the moment I heard about Jurenel's death, I thought it again when ke Suker told me it was mine to attend, and I thought it a third time ascending the steps to the temple of the Trinity, bypassing the line of well-wishers as they stared after me and fingered their death gifts. I hated the Void's incense and the sticky-fine nets that were His decorations, the cloying foods, the nervous speeches. If there truly is a Void god, I hope He'll kill me quickly in the wilderness and trip me into a gulch so deep no one will be able to find my body to honor it.
But a claw of the Empire can afford no such sentiments. I disguised my hesitation by standing aside so my three subordinates could process before me; as they passed I tasked myself to a calm that scattered the moment I set a foot on the cold marble of the floor and I saw again—and for the last time--the object of this evening’s grim exercise.
Anyone but Ke Jurenel Laisira-eperu.
His body had been arranged on the bier that would later disintegrate when put to the fire. Even in death he wore a faint smile, and the deep creases around his brows had not grown slack. Oh, no. If afterlife there was, ke Jurenel would not be resting. The Jokkad who had guided House Laisira from listless poverty to its present pinnacle, the sole Jokkad who had dared spar with me over our weekly tea, who seemed not to fear the power of the Empire at all or its instruments... that Jokkad would tumble the World's household and rebuild it from twigs, if he thought aught could be gained by it.
I could not recall a single emodo from House Laisira to be his equal, and if they could not find someone to run the House with as much aplomb, we would lose the significant income we skimmed off Laisira's transactions as well as the profits made from Jurenel's alliances. The Empire was growing. We could not waste a single coin. "Assess the new Head of Household," ke Suker had said. "If he does not suit, we may have to act."
So much said in so few words.
The bier had been set in the middle of the temple's vast central chamber, with two firebowls on either side of Jurenel's head. There was no other illumination save the starlight pouring from the windows carved into the high stone ceiling. The strands of gold and the disks of clay that were the decorations of the Brightness and World had been put away, and only the Void's black nets, sprinkled with crystal, drifted in the shadows.
By tradition, the next Head of Household remained undeclared until the last had been cast on the wind... but each Head was responsible for training his successor, and that Jokkad always stood at the foot of the bier with the other principals of the House: the pefna-eperu, charged with managing all the neuters of a household; the jarana, once tasked with guarding the anadi and now charged with their assessment and dispensation; and the kaña, if the House still owned any females: not a usual thing anymore, save among rich Houses like Laisira.
Three people stood there now. As my subordinates arranged themselves near the door, I approached the trio with the immunity of my position. The empire had freed me from the need to observe this morbid ritual, had taken away the gods and offered the cold light of the Stone Moon, emblem of Roika's dominion. Lucky Jokkad I. Now all I had to worry about was House Laisira's continued health, and the possibility that I might have to kill Jurenel's apprentice.
Said apprentice stood far enough from the bier to allow well-wishers to pass by, depositing their gifts in the offering bowls before stopping beside the body to whisper their last, desperate messages. He was a young tawny male, nervous and uncertain, his dark mane bound in an elaborate braid that left his narrow face exposed to the harsh light of the fire. Did he wear the style because he truly followed the Trinity? The bleak tradition of leaving your neck and face exposed at a funeral for the Void's inspection was rarely observed even by the devout. Perhaps he wore it thus out of respect for Jurenel--it was one of the deceased’s more fascinating eccentricities, that pragmatic Jokkad who nevertheless believed foot, claw and sole in the gods.
I waited until after a Jokkad in line had dropped an especially large pouch into the bowl before stepping up beside the emodo and murmuring, "The people of het Kabbanil are generous."
The emodo jumped, ears dipping in surprise. I smiled at him while wondering at his skittishness. I hadn't exactly been hiding my approach. I continued, "My pardon. I'm Pathen Ures-emodo. My condolences on your loss, ke emodo. All the het will miss ke Jurenel."
"Darsi Laisira-emodo," the other Jokkad said after a beat; he glanced at my uniform and summoned a smile. "Thank you. I admit I wasn't expecting anyone from the Empire…."
"The head of House Laisira was an important member of het Kabbanil," I said, trying not to stare at him. I couldn't imagine Jurenel picking such a fumble-mouthed youth as a successor. Was this fragile male hiding some unlikely depth beneath this facade? "Naturally, the Empire would wish to pay its respects."
"Of course," Darsi said, uncertainly, as if he expected me to gut him right there. I longed to see some fire in his eyes. How I hated the simpering fear of every other Head of House to which I'd been assigned!
"Will you want to keep ke Jurenel's schedule of meetings?" I asked, just to see if I could prick his temper... but someone else answered for him, someone with an alto as clear as running water.
"Perhaps now is not the best time to discuss business."
"Just what I was thinking," Darsi said. "Don't you agree, ke Pathen? You can come by tomorrow."
I glanced past him for the source of that bright voice, catching a gleam of gold and ivory, warm shades cloaked in the dark blue of the temple. But fierce eyes, yes: plum-red, deep and intent.
"My pefna-eperu," Darsi said, stepping back. "Pathen Ures-emodo, Hesa Laisira-emodo."
As the neuter stepped forward my impression of warmth redoubled... the warmth of blood, for Hesa had skin the color of a running wound, pearl-white touched with ivory and blush. The impression was so extreme I was taken aback. 
Darsi's uncertain voice reminded me that the Empire’s claws do not indulge in reveries while working. "Ke emodo?"
"A passing fancy," I said, waving it off. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, ke eperu."
In Hesa's unwavering stare I saw the fire that should have been in Darsi's. What a joke, to see it secreted in an eperu's eyes! An eperu, who could never by law become the Head of Household, one of the most stringently enforced laws in all the Empire: it is said that Roika has a special hatred for neuters who aspire to greater than labor, and his edicts reflect it. Would that Hesa had remained its birth gender, so that Laisira could have rested in more competent hands... but then, passion did not necessarily lead to aptitude. A firetongue could run Laisira into the ground with stupid management as easily as a fragile flower like Darsi. Perhaps House Laisira had been lucky after all.
"Tomorrow," I said. "I'll be sure to come by."

***

The following morning Laisira looked much the same as it had when Jurenel would had been awaiting me with a pot of hot keddif and a new set of barbed questions. It was only after I stepped inside that the differences became apparent in the hush of the halls and the furtive haste of the individuals passing through its corridors. Not a single Jokkad walked by who didn't wear unease along with Laisira's fine bee-spun silks.
Darsi was sitting in Jurenel's chair when I entered the study, and he looked as profoundly uncomfortable there as he had in the temple. The wax tablets of the House's accounts were spread in a fan on the desk, but the stylus remained in its stand. I wondered if anyone had picked it up since Jurenel's death.
The emodo didn't greet me or invite me to sit. I let him stare as long as he wanted, wondering what he was thinking. Was he gathering his courage? Assessing my mien? Testing my stubbornness? Or was it merely timorous? Maybe he was waiting for me to speak first, unwilling to take control of the meeting.
That there wasn’t a pot of tea of the desk irritated me.
Eventually I lost patience with him. I had too much to do to waste the morning playing predators' games with a new Head of Household. "So, ke Darsi. Now we can talk business."
"Yes, of course," Darsi said. "As long as you understand I haven't had much time to settle in my role yet."
"Naturally; but I wouldn't want to lose much time." I walked to the chair Jurenel had saved for me for our interviews, but didn't sit in it. Instead I rested my hands on its back and looked at my new opponent. "Ke Jurenel and I had much unfinished business, all of which would suffer for tardiness. You and I may want to meet a few days in succession until you're comfortable with the status of Laisira’s accounts. Then we can resume ke Jurenel's schedule of meeting once a week."
"To discuss what the empire wants of Laisira," Darsi said.
As if he needed confirmation? Did Jurenel not tell him anything at all? Such confusion made no sense in the emodo Jurenel had been training as a second. I emptied my voice of my concerns and said only, "As you say."
"I'm sure it won't take me long to settle," Darsi said. "Until then, there are some things we can take care of now. You'll want your fraction of the gifts brought to the funeral?"
"If you've tallied the total already, yes," I said. "We take a smaller part of the death gifts than we do of sales."
"The Stone Moon has mercy," Darsi said, and if he meant any sarcasm I couldn't hear it.
"Mercy is not one of the empire's virtues," I said. "Mercy doesn't build roads. But there is a certain decorum that should be observed." Surely he was hiding his knowledge beneath a facade of ignorance, one intended to fool me into concessions. The matter wanted a test. I glanced at my hands to give Darsi a chance to catch his breath, and when he took it I said, "I'm more concerned about my negotiations with ke Jurenel about the seven eperu he owes the Empire for labor."
"The what?" Darsi exclaimed with a touch of a squeak, caught off-guard as never ke Jurenel would have been. Was he playing at surprise to put me off guard? "Surely you jest, ke Pathen."
"Not at all," I said. "Every House owes the Empire labor. Laisira has evaded its responsibilities long enough. Seven eperu for a season to help build the roads and public works. Or do you think aqueducts and thoroughfares maintain themselves?"
"We only have fifteen eperu, ke Pathen!"
I nodded, waiting for him to tell me Jurenel had agreed to no such thing... or even that he would need time to find the record of this agreement. But he didn't. I continued to play my part, wondering what trap he was setting. "I know how many eperu Laisira has, ke emodo. Indeed, I'd originally required ten--thus the negotiations. Ke Jurenel convinced me that seven would be enough. But I'm not sure how much longer I can hold that offer out. I have my own superiors to answer to, as you know."
"Seven eperu for a season," Darsi said and shook his head. "I'm not sure I can manage it. Ke Jurenel was a good emodo, but... "
"You intend not to honor his bargains?" I asked. "That would be troublesome. We would have to re-negotiate everything he's put in place for Laisira. I can't see that being good for the House when most of our agreements were made when Laisira had less to give the Jokka."
The flush that whitened Darsi's ears would have amused me had I not been so appalled at the way he was handling the discussion. I'd expected him to call me on my bluff long before I reached this point, but now that we had I couldn't very well back away.
"I never meant to intimate such a thing," Darsi said. "You'll have your seven eperu, ke emodo. Just... give me a week to decide who to send."
"Of course," I said, standing free of the chair. "I'll send someone for the tithe of the death gifts later this afternoon."
"As you say," Darsi said. "Come back in two days, ke Pathen, and we'll catch up with the rest of the accounts."
"Two days," I said and backed to the door. "Until then, ke emodo. Good morning."
I waited until I'd left the House behind a curve before stopping to curse. It hadn't been my intention to steal Laisira's eperu support, but Darsi should have known that only desperate Houses gave labor to the empire. Rich Laisira hadn't been desperate for many years. Suker would laugh himself out of his chair when he heard I'd accidentally put Laisira's eperu to work hauling paving stones south up Roika's road.
There was only one possible answer for Darsi's ineptitude: Jurenel had died without training a successor, and Darsi thought... what, he could take the lead? Or had he been pushed there by others? What exactly had happened? If Darsi remained as incompetent as he seemed to be now, the House would fall and take with it all the coin taxed from its sales.
I sighed as I walked back toward the barracks. I didn't want to have to take care of a problem with Laisira's succession. I carried the metal sickle-knives that all the empire's enforcers did, but I didn't enjoy their use.
There was the possibility Darsi would find his mind with a map before I had to remove him. It was enough to turn me into a praying man.

***

For the next few days I had no time to devote to Laisira. One of my Houses, Rapuñal, had a limb in every business in Kabbanil; checking their records involved a great deal of tedium. For this very good reason, I'd delegated the task to two of my subordinates. I knew they would find a discrepancy one day, but even I would never have guessed the magnitude of Rapuñal's transgression. They'd hidden secret transactions in almost every business, from rikka sales off their caravans to unstated contracts for future use of the children they were due by allotment... little items all over their House, all of them stealing just a little more blood from the empire.
The Stone Moon does not appreciate stolen blood or breath. Rapuñal was my House to watch, and beneath two of my hands it had robbed the emperor of enough money to finish his road to the Birthwell. We set a date for the public punishment of ke Ajul, Head of Rapuñal, and I prepared my knives.
Suker had words for me after all the explanations I'd been forced to tender to Roika's ministers, between evidence granted and interviews suffered by my subordinates.
"A thousand coins a month," Suker said, leaning against the arch into my little-used office. "That's a lot."
"Yes," I growled, struggling with the cloth wrapping on my sickle-knives. All Roika's claws had them... uncomfortable things only a little larger than our spread hands, with one end sharply pointed and the other flat and shaped like a scythe-moon. The weapons were issued to us with the latter edge wrapped in cloth. I was trying to peel it off.
"You know the Empire is displeased with me."
"Which means you are displeased with me," I said, finally getting a claw in under the wrapping. I'd never had cause to remove it, and it was reluctant to come loose. I was not eager to help it. "I understand, ke Suker. What punishment are you required to levy?"
Suker sighed, ears flattening. "You know I don't hold with this particular policy of the empire's, Pathen. You're one of my best."
I glanced at Suker sharply. His eyes were fixed on the far wall and his arms were tightly crossed over his uniform tunic. Even his tail was swishing, the spasmodic twitches of a nervous mind, not the decisive flicks of a shrug.
I tore the bindings on the knife at last and revealed the sickle edge, inlaid with a symbolic strip of dimpled stone. "Rip it free, ke Suker."
"I'll have to dock your pay," Suker said.
I flicked one ear backward and looked at him askance. Money was not much of a concern for me and he knew it well.
"And I'm going to have to take you off three of your five Houses," Suker said at last. "Rapuñal, Makuf and Ledezail."
Slowly I rose to my feet and spread my hands on my desk. "Ke emodo... "
"You don't have to tell me," Suker said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. "I've had to promote one of Brekkan's emodo to take over those duties. And I don't know what I'm going to do about your subordinates. I've been told to release them from the Empire's service entirely." He grimaced. "I'm hoping this is temporary. We'll limp along until the Empire forgets that you allowed Rapuñal to cheat it, or until you have some spectacular success that restores you to favor."
I wanted to protest, but didn't. In truth, I had failed; I'd delegated a task I'd found undesirable to Jokka who'd had less experience in uncovering the financial lies of canny Houses. I should have checked Rapuñal's records myself.
Ke Suker approached me and rested a hand on my arm. "Bad enough that you have to stand as the Empire's hand at the ceremony," he said. "It wounds me to impugn your competence when I have no better Jokkad in my employ. But I have faith that you'll soon be working those Houses again, and as many more as I can load on your willing back."
My willing back...! Sometimes I couldn't tell if Suker teased or not, since together we occasionally skirted close to sarcasm.
The knife glinted on the desk, its punishment edge ready for sharpening. For the sake of the empire's aims, I would do my duty. Who but Roika had ever tried to rebuild the ruins of our society? Who believed in roads? In irrigation? In increased trade and industry? Who created our message system? Who took the unpleasant duty of managing the mind-taxed off our hands, and regularized the breeding of children? We have never prospered as we have under Roika. If with that prosperity we have inherited fear, who would trade the one for the other?
The answer so far? Is “no one.” And that is how people like me become claws of the empire. If your choice is to serve the empire or be its prey, there really is no choice at all.

***

I stood on the platform that had been erected in the center of het Kabbanil beneath a sky dense with clouds. Our infrequent rains come in such violent storms no one is sure whether to rejoice or flee. It seemed an appropriate tension for this distasteful moment. Between the brooding sky and the columns of incense smoke rising from the corners of the platform, I felt caged.
I stood a respectful distance to one side of het Kabbanil's minister, but in front of the lower-ranked guards that had been responsible for bringing ke Ajul, the Head of Raduñal, to my feet. He was kneeling awkwardly with his hands tied behind his back and his mane had been pulled from his face and neck, as if in preparation for his own funeral.
Much of the het had come to the square, first to watch the building of the platform, then to see ke Ajul dragged through the dust and up the ramp. Attendance at these functions wasn't mandatory, but people came anyway. They came because the ceremony was compelling, written as it was to cast the guilty as antagonist to the people of the empire. They came to see who had cheated the Empire when cheaters were so infrequent… and if they were principals of a House, they came because their absence would have been noted. Every Jokkad of consequence in Kabbanil was in front, where the minister could see their lifted faces.
The minister greeted the crowd and the people in it grew still, as tense as the waiting storm. I did not listen to the recitation of crimes, since I'd given it to the minister's aides myself. Instead, I looked down at Ajul.
Ajul. Ajul, who'd feared my arrival. Ajul who'd refused to look into my eyes. Had I so completely assumed his innocence that he'd been able to conspire despite my visits? How had he hidden his duplicity from me and mine? Even now, his contrition seemed sincere. I hated him for making me stand here. The knife in my hand dug into my palm as my fingers clenched.
" ...now this Jokkad must answer for the lies that have hurt us all, the lies that have shadowed the face of the Empire of the Stone Moon," the minister was saying, and I froze, waiting for the next words. The Emperor did not generally mete out terrible punishment for monetary crimes, but he had his whims... "Blood for blood. Sweat for sweat."
But not breath for breath.
The minister walked to me and gravely handed me a beautiful clay jar, glazed in white and apricot-cream. I set it down in front of Ajul, trying to move with my customary grace, but my limbs were stiff.
"Blood for blood," the minister said.
I stepped forward and slashed Ajul's chest with the scythe-edge of my knife, then held him over the jar with a firm grip on the hair at the back of his neck. He cried out.
We bleed hard, but stop quickly. The jar must be full, and the blood in it barely coated the inside of the bottom. I cut again. And again. The incense smoke broke against my body as the wind changed. Spatters of blood whitened my uniform, splashed against my wrists. The throng was silent. The sky was silent. Only Ajul spoke, long cries like a bird's, without meaning. The minister would let him keep his life, but no matter my skill with the knife he would never recover from the ritual. He would be a cripple for the rest of his days.
When the jar was full, I let go of Ajul's mane to pick it up. Its walls were still warm. I wiped it with a cloth given to me by one of the guards and handed it to the minister. "Blood for blood," I said in a rasp.
The minister set it on a table and I retreated to my place, knife still in hand, still dripping.
"And sweat for sweat," the minister said. "So much money has this Jokkad stole from you and the Empire that he can only pay for it with his life's work. From this day forth, Ajul Raduñal-eperu is of the House of the Stone Moon. He will spend his life completing the Empire's roads, watering its crops, and working its mines." Now a stone tablet was displayed, chiseled with all the particulars. It would be prominently displayed in the House of Transactions by the day's end so it could be read by any and all.
Ajul moaned.
The minister walked past me to Ajul and rested a hand on the unfortunate's head. "The Emperor is not without mercy. Your House has been spared your fate. It will not suffer for your poor leadership." He turned from Ajul to face the crowd and lifted his arms. "And now, my fellows, I--"
"Throwbacks!" Ajul yelled. I stepped back, startled... nothing in Ajul's demeanor had suggested he had enough fire in him to interrupt the ceremony's close. "Arrogant fools! You think yours is the only way!"
The minister attempted to continue his statement, but Ajul shouted again.
"There is another way. On the plains, another city, a better way, a kinder ruler... "
The minister glanced at me and nodded, almost imperceptibly, toward the Empire's newest slave. As I stepped forward, he said to Ajul, "Poor misled creature. There is only one empire. There is only one emperor. On the plains there is nothing but famine, poverty and death. Only beneath the Stone Moon is there light."
I struck Ajul hard enough to knock him unconscious, but not enough to damage him. I'd had too much experience with gauging my blows in my line of work. I caught him before he crumpled and set him on the ground.
Looking up from my crouch, I found Darsi's face across from mine. I hadn't noticed him until now. His skin was shemilkiil: gray, from lack of blood, from shock, the gray that steals the colors from our shimmering skins. I had never seen anyone look so obviously afraid at one of these rituals: it set him apart from his peers with their carefully controlled expressions. 
He was prey before the claws of the Empire, no fit Head of Household for Laisira. Beside him, Hesa stood with every muscle tense, as if ready to spring. I was arrested by its fierce plum-dark eyes.
"Blood for blood. Sweat for sweat. You are all repaid," the minister said. "Go peacefully beneath the light of the Moon."
The crowd began to disperse. I stood slowly, moved out of the way of the guards as they lifted Ajul’s limp body. The minister didn't even look at them before gliding down the ramp and into the milling Jokka, there no doubt to assess which Heads of Household were inappropriately appalled by Ajul's fate.
I did not recall how I arrived back at the barracks, only that when the restless rage wore off I was sitting on the edge of the rikka trough, sweaty and disturbed. I dipped my arm into the water to begin to unseal my hand from the sticky blade. Once I worked my fingers free, I let the weapon sink to the bottom and stared into the water. How I hated being one of the claws on the end of the Emperor's hand. How I hated that he used me... and worse, how my rage at being used served his purposes. I could turn my face from the whispers of instinct, but they would not quiet until I listened. They were speaking now. They were adamant.
On my way to find enough tape to re-wrap the punishment edge of my knives, I stopped Ukeñe, my last remaining subordinate, and made my stiff bow to the feral voices. It is better to hunt than to be the hunted.
"Watch Laisira's Head," I said. "There's something not quite right with that House."

***

In the days that followed, Ukeñe watched Darsi and I examined the slates between meetings with the Heads of my remaining Houses. I was determined not to make the mistakes that had enslaved Ajul and forced ke Suker to take away my responsibilities, and for a while, all was well. Darsi found his footing; he had an odd habit of deliberating at least a day on each decision, but Laisira began making money again, more even than it had under Jurenel, and I forgave him his caution. House Kaduye, my other charge, remained scrupulously honest in its accounts. I thought I could relax.
The day I noticed the decrease in Laisira's honey sales Ukeñe came to me wearing a grimace. I glanced up from the column of numbers on the latest wax tablet.
"You look like you've eaten something sour," I said.
"You said there was something not quite right with Laisira? I'll say. I think the pefna's got the Head in a harness."
I gaped at him, the anomalous figures forgotten. "What?"
"The Head of Household, the emodo. He's very deferential to the pefna, something it makes easy to see by attending all of his meetings. They're... very close. You understand?"
"You think they're fornicating?" I asked, ears splaying.
"It looks that way," Ukeñe said.
I let my head drop into my hands. Darsi and Hesa sharing beds was an unmitigated disaster. Of all the sins the Empire of the Stone Moon frowned upon, only two others carried more weight. But while treason resulted in a clean execution and the opportunity for the emperor to make a lesson out of the event, perverts... perverts were a calamity. There was no way I could gracefully extract myself, ke Suker, or Laisira from such a debacle. Roika hated perverts with such passion that their punishments stretched on for months, dragging their Houses into ruin and providing macabre spectacles for the het long after the errant lovers had repented. It was a rare event—our new laws keep the sexes from casual interaction—but it had happened once during my tenure as a claw. The resulting series of public mortifications had concluded with the emodo half of the couple exiled, a death sentence under the Stone Moon with every het in Roika’s palm. But even that was better than what had happened to the eperu. It had simply vanished, and Void alone knew what fate it had met.
Perverts. Void crush it. Only wrongful Heads-of-Household enraged the emperor more.
"You're certain?" I asked.
Ukeñe smiled wryly. "Would it suit your purposes if I wasn't?"
"Yes," I said.
"Then perhaps you should observe them yourself for a while, ke emodo," Ukeñe said with a deferential tap to the brow. "I may be incorrect."
So he was sure. I had to find a way to pry them apart before anyone else noticed. We didn't need Laisira's house stone broken. Few were the Houses in het Kabbanil that could say they made more money than House Laisira. Not only that, but the House would not survive the resulting exposure, and neither would I... and I doubted Ukeñe or Suker would either.
"There are some strange figures in their records," I said. "I suppose I will have to survey them personally for a few weeks. Thank you for your help, ke emodo. Will you now look into Kaduye's newest grain venture? If the projected yields, we’ll need to help them with the application for the food subsidy."
Ukeñe nodded and obediently turned to go, but I did not miss the glint of fear in his eyes. He knew what Darsi and Hesa's affair meant.
I packed the tablets and left, stopping only to dress in a fresh uniform. By the time I reached Laisira, purple dusk had swallowed the road. The sultry yellow-orange of oil-soaked torches lit the area immediately around the House. A double handful of Jokka were milling outside, dragging crates toward the back of the building or loading them on carts. Directing this chaos was a slender figure, half-naked, skin shimmering like new blood.
I waited for a lull. "Ke Hesa."
It flung itself around and fixed me with its fierce eyes. "You! What are you doing here? It's a little late for the empire to come slinking by."
I laughed despite my worry. It had been too long since I'd heard such defiance. "I had a few pressing questions."
"So pressing you couldn't wait for your meeting with Darsi?" Hesa asked archly. It snorted. "Are you so eager to bring us down, like you did Raduñal?"
That was skirting too close to painful truth. "Fallen Houses earn no coin for the empire," I said.
"Ah, yes, I forget," Hesa said. "The vaunted roads and aqueducts, the messengers on swift rikka, the anadi residences to bolster our population. Who will pay for the light of the Stone Moon if not the Houses?" It reached forward, quicker than I could stop, and snatched the end of the sash around my waist. "Who will keep your soldiers in scarves?"
I tried to catch my breath from the brush of its hand against my thigh. No wonder Ukeñe thought Hesa had Darsi in harness. If it was this forward with everyone, I was shocked it hadn't already been accused of perversion. "Your honey sales," I said. "They're down."
"That happens sometimes," Hesa said with a shrug. It waved to two eperu with a seemingly unimportant burden. "Don't dare drop that crate!"
"Sometimes," I said, "but this is an extreme dip. I'm concerned that your bees might be sick."
"The bees are fine," Hesa said. "They'll weave their cocoons. It's the markets that are failing. No one bought any honey on the last two caravans."
I frowned. "That's strange. Usually your honey sells quickly."
"Perhaps other places have found their own bees."
That was even more alarming. Laisira's honey was only a byproduct of the bees that wove their cocoons to win their wings. If other towns started keeping their own bees, the market for Laisira's cloth might drop drastically.
Hesa glanced at me. I found it still had my sash in its hand. "I've worried you," it said, and I heard hesitation in its voice for the first time.
"I'm afraid so," I said. "You won't mind if I survey your operations personally for a few weeks, ke eperu?" I offered it a wry smile. "No matter what you believe, I have no wish for Laisira to be broken, but I must allay my masters' fears."
"Your masters," Hesa murmured. "And mine."
I looked down at its brilliant mane, pulled back in an untidy braid. One spiral curl hid its eye from mine.

***

Darsi bristled the first week I made a nuisance of myself, attending every meeting, examining every caravan, following all the principals of the House on their business. The extremity of his reaction raised the same alarms that no doubt had sent Ukeñe into my office. But Hesa waved down his objections and eventually Darsi let me be. And I made my observations.
And oh, such observations.
With each passing sunset, I listened to Hesa interrupt Darsi to argue Laisira's suppliers down to absurd prices. I watched it hauling crates, capping pots of dye and arranging cargo in caravans so that more wares could fit in them. I saw it design ways to protect bolts of cloth from exposure and preserve volatile dyes on long journeys... I scarcely believed the prices it demanded and received for Laisira's goods. I had never seen anyone so magnificent, and in its ferocity for the business it made even Jurenel look like a helpless baby. If Darsi was dropping his trews for his pefna, I could scarcely blame him. I couldn't imagine anyone saying no to blood-hot Hesa. I certainly muffed it the first time it shoved an empty jar into my arms.
"Start packing those," it said. "The northern caravan will be here tonight and we want them ready to go the moment it rolls to a stop."
“I’m not allowed to pack crates,” I said. “Labor is a neuter duty and duty--.”
“—never crosses sex lines,” it said. “I know the law.”
“Then you know that I’m not allowed,” I answered, still holding the jar.
“You’re a claw,” it said, piquant. “Write yourself a permit.” When I didn’t move, it stared me in the eye. “Ke Pathen, you have a hand wound in my tail all day. Every day. If you’re going to be breathing down my spine, you might as well be useful.”
I’ll never know why I gave in and packed the damned jar. But after that, I didn’t stop. Technically emodo could do the work of eperu if they had a permit, but it was rare; the division of labor codified by the empire really did extend the mindspans of all the sexes and few people fought it. And it was true that as a claw, I could write such permits.
Besides, I felt guilt for what I was attempting to do to Laisira. I didn’t want to be there, waiting for one of its principals to make its first—and last--mistake.
So I packed jars. I loaded crates. I took notes at meetings. But I didn't forget why I'd come, and every hour I sought some sign of Hesa and Darsi's perversion. Their relationship perplexed me--Ukeñe had not falsely reported Darsi's bizarre deference, nor Hesa's tendency to follow him into every negotiation--but I could find no evidence of a relationship. Something was going on, but I couldn't figure what, and short of surveying them from dawn to dawn, I probably never would.
And yet I couldn’t bear to let it be. The repercussions of the catastrophe of their possible relationship brought me back to their door, day after day… week after week… month after month.

***

Two months into my unsuccessful investigation, Hesa leaned back against the wall of the House and wiped the sweat from its sloped forehead. Together we watched the west-south caravan depart, its wagon beds piled high with Laisira's latest offerings. Then the eperu turned to the vat at the corner of the house and ladled itself a cup of water. I watched it splashing its face, a few locks flopping over its eyes. Sweat had sealed one of its curls to the length of its pale neck, a raised spiral damp and glistening.
So engaged was I in studying the poetry of this curl that I didn't realize it had turned and was offering me a spoon of water.
"Thank you," I said, and drank.
"You're a good worker," Hesa said as I washed my face with the dregs. "So good I'm wondering if we should list you as an employee, ke emodo. Temporary of course, since I share you with the empire."
I sputtered into the water and lifted my head to find it laughing. I managed a weak grin. "The empire doesn't care how its claws do their work, so long as the work is done."
"And your work is scrutinizing my House?" Hesa asked. "One would think you wouldn't have time to give such special attention to Laisira."
I shrugged. "In the wake of the incident with Rapuñal, my duties have been curtailed. I have the time." Even if it meant I was going over Kapuye's records before bed. I was beginning to dream in numbers, when I didn’t have nightmares about languishing silk sales and Hesa and Darsi in each other’s arms.
"If all the Empire's claws threw their backs into the work of their Houses the way you do, I think they would find themselves welcome wherever they went." Hesa stretched, muscles rippling beneath its shining skin. "Which reminds me... come."
I followed it into the building, past the rooms where the emodo of Laisira painted and wove their magic for the enrichment of House and empire. Leaving me on the threshold of a small room, it vanished for a few moments before returning with a length of gray silk.
Before I could speak, it was untying the sash at my waist. The Empire's uniforms had been designed for breezing through a House, enjoying its hospitality and sailing out again; my labors made an untidy mess of it. The fabric beneath the sash was wrinkled and stained with sweat, the first few buttons near the square neckline never stayed fastened, and the soft blouse beneath the tunic was matted near my neck and wrists. With a few brushes and snaps of its wrist, Hesa made it look fresh again, and then it wrapped the new sash around my waist.
"I'm correct in thinking the sashes are the Jokkad's choice?" Hesa said.
"Yes," I said, staring at its nimble fingers. I had never bothered to buy scarves for my uniform. Personalizing my uniform would have forced me to face that I was inhabiting it.
"Then this shouldn't get you in trouble," it said, flipping the end of the sash over with a flourish. "There. Much nicer."
The silk was as smooth and cool as running water: translucent gray, with spirals hand-painted over a dyed and mottled cloudy sky. A few moments later, I noticed that the spirals matched the ones visible on my body.
"This is a magnificent gift," I said, and it was... worth at least two week's salary. "I can't possibly--"
"Yes, you can," Hesa said, interrupting me. It touched my mouth with its fingers, shocking me into silence. "And you will."
I let out a breath. "Far be it from me to contradict you, ke Hesa. Thank you." I studied the masterful evocation of the clouds and traced a ray. “Is this the light of the moon, then?”
“Would I give you a scarf with the sun?” it asked with perhaps too studied an innocence.
I stared after it for a little too long after it left: a claw of the empire, too obviously contemplating the reckless principal of a House. The fear of the weavers behind me was palpable, like the incense off the platform where Ajul became a slave.

***

That evening Suker found me over the wax tablets for Laisira and Kaduye. Frowning, even: the gift kept nagging at me, though I hadn’t taken it off.
"Pathen?"
"It's nothing," I said. "Not serious anyway. Give me until the summer fetes.... "
"Ukeñe told me there was something going on with Laisira, but not what."
I looked up then. "He did?"
"I asked," Suker said, and presumably my expression prompted him to add, "You've been stalking them like an eightclaws a wounded rikka. Of course I thought something was going on. So what is it?"
"We think there's something unnatural going on between the Head and the pefna."
"Unnat--Void! Are you sure?"
"No," I said firmly. "I've been watching them for months now and haven't seen any signs of it."
"But you're not sure," Suker said. "Is there anything odd in the books?"
"Now that you call it up," I said reluctantly, "it looks like Laisira is losing some of its people."
A long pause. The empire was very serious about the census. Our food supply was still marginal, even with the innovations the emperor had overseen in agriculture and irrigation. Without an exact population count from each het, the food ministry couldn’t distribute the supply correctly. The displeasure of the emperor if even one of his people starved was legendary. Not only that, but there were rumors about people disappearing from the het, and that was even more distressing… particularly given Ajul’s ravings at his sentencing.
“Losing as in to other Houses, yes?” Suker asked carefully. “Not as in dying or vanishing.”
“I’m not sure,” I said.
Another pause as both Suker and I contemplated our futures.
"Find out," Suker said. "I want a definitive answer by the holidays. And take care. We don't need people reporting any improprieties."
"Improprieties?" I asked, startled. "Ke Suker?"
"Your daily watch over Laisira hasn't gone unnoticed. Most of the Houses are pleasantly terrified, thinking we might choose them next for a special audit. But some... some are suggesting less innocent reasons."
As if my current reason was innocent. "It's nothing like you think, ke Suker."
"I know," he said, and I read sadness in his eyes. No, not sadness, pity. Pity. His gaze traveled to the sash around my waist. "But take care anyway, Pathen. Nothing trades like news. Too much trading, and I may not be able to help you. Do you understand?"
So much said in so few words.
“I understand, ke Suker.”
He nodded. “Good.”

***

"Ah, yes," Hesa said the next day. I'd waited until halfway through the afternoon labors to pose the question, and we were both sticky with sweat, walking the border of the shuñe fields to stretch cramped muscles. "You'll recall the eperu you took from us when Darsi succeeded Jurenel?"
"Yes," I said warily.
"The work-load has had unfortunate effects on our remaining people," Hesa said. "One of them died of fever. Another left… and before you ask, no I don’t know where it went. ‘Anywhere but here,’ was all it told me on the way out." It wiped its face with a towel, sounding tired. I'd never heard it sound tired before. "We're running a little short on workers."
"I'm sorry," I said, aghast. "It wasn't my intention to rob Laisira of its help."
"But you did, didn't you?" Hesa said, eyeing me. "Just as you robbed Raduñal of its Head. As you are, no doubt, planning to rob us again."
"Ke eperu--"
It took one step and glared at me over its shoulder, one hand lightly touching the reeds of the crop: golden stands to frame its pearly body. "Admit it, claw of the Stone Moon. You're waiting for us to show weakness. Why else would you be here week after week, putting foot to my every print?"
"No!" I said. "It's not like that at all! Ke Hesa, I'm trying to save Laisira."
"From what?" Hesa asked archly.
"From the empire." I took a deep breath and plunged on. "They say horrible things about you, ke eperu, you and the Head. They say you are indulging in perversions. That you're in love."
Hesa stared at me. A faint tremor ran up its lithe body.
"If it's true... please, I beg you, leave off! There will be nothing left of Laisira when Roika hears of it. And of Darsi, and you…" The thought of Hesa vanishing one day was not endurable.
The eperu ran a shaking hand through its curls and let out a nervous laugh. "Gods! Nothing like that is passing between Darsi and me, I swear it, Pathen. But tell me, how exactly is your following us around all the time going to convince people otherwise?"
"I'm due to conclude my observations by the summer fetes," I said. "When I report that I've found nothing, even after tagging after you hand to tail, you'll both be presumed blameless." 
Hesa turned away from me. Its shoulders were still trembling, and I dared to reach and touch one of them. We'd both shed our blouses halfway through the morning... I'd wondered what its skin would feel like. I shouldn't have been surprised that it was as smooth as Laisira silk.
"Of all the crazy things that could have befallen us after Jurenel died," Hesa said, almost to itself, "an accusation of perversion was the last I expected. If you've saved us from that, Pathen, then Laisira owes you more than I can say... and you a scythe of the Empire." It turned and embraced me, suddenly, fiercely. I had barely finished gasping when it stepped away, still holding my upper arms. "I never thought I'd have cause to clasp a claw in gratitude. Truly, wonders never end."
I summoned up a fragile smile, but my soul was in tumult. If Laisira was innocent, sharing my mission harmed no one. But if Darsi and Hesa were truly hiding an affair--if Hesa had just lied ears to toes--then what I'd just done was the worst kind of treason.
Gods help me.

***

The days passed. I felt enduring guilt over the failure of Laisira's eperu; though the House continued to earn its riches, I felt every eperu that left afterwards like a knife in the side. Nor did Laisira's honey sales ever recover... Hesa only laughed over that news and answered it by feeding me some of the surplus while I washed dye jars for re-shipment. Its fingers were hot as blood as it smeared the sweet on my mouth. The feel of those fingers displaced all my other dreams and nightmares for days.
Suker did not ask again after my charges, for he and the other hands of the empire had enough to busy themselves. Petty theft and contract desertions were on the rise, and some of the Jokka at Laisira whispered that the empire's slaves were vanishing in the night. They were fleeing for the myths in the grasslands, they said, fleeing in search of the truedark that could veil the Stone Moon. I put no faith in such tales, but the minister apparently did, and Suker and his peers were often away, investigating anadi fancies in the wilderness.
The week of the summer festivals finally arrived, a cluster of holidays from different faiths and farming customs. Each day saw some ritual or gathering, ensuring that all the Jokka of het Kabbanil would have their fill of parties by the end of the holiday. On the first day I skipped the morning's bonfire and prepared instead for the evening, when all the major Houses would have their fetes. Summer's long days inspired the heaviest trading, cause enough for celebration.
I was not due at Laisira, for the arrival of the fetes had concluded my investigations and left me empty-handed of evidence I could use against them. But I remembered the intensity of Hesa's interest in the first of the summer caravans, due today. We'd spent weeks preparing enough to fill its wagons, and my hand had been on most of the dye pots and many of the bolts. I wondered how it fared. As I dressed in the Empire's severe formal uniform for the festivities, it weighed increasingly on my mind until the decision made itself. I had time before the wealthiest Houses expected me. Tying Hesa's sash around my waist for the final touch, I left for Laisira.
I arrived to the silhouettes of Jokka rushing out of purple dark into the pools of golden light thrown off by the lanterns. Incredulous, I counted over twenty-five wagons before I came to a stop. The House had been losing people steadily since my investigation began; there was no way they could load a caravan that large in one night. I found the first shipment set out and put myself to work. At first no one noticed. Then one of the caravan hands pointed me out to a Laisira eperu, who walked to my side.
"Pathen! Aren’t you due at some party somewhere? You should be away!"
"I won’t be due for a while," I said. "There's work to be done here."
I had several similar exchanges, each from a Jokkad who looked more and more uncomfortable. A few whispered out of the reach of my ears. I paid them no mind.
The last of the dye pots I loaded was into a wagon crammed with crates. I sat on one of them and wiped my brow. Surely this caravan would bring back a wealth of coin for Laisira, selling things such as these crates of honey.
Honey? Hesa hadn't been shipping honey for months. Confused, I searched the wagon with my gaze, from back to front: all of the crates were honey, to the last one. I slid off my perch and pulled my sickle-knife free, using the wrapped edge to pry off the lid.
An eperu stared up at me, aghast. I stared, equally dumbfounded, then applied my knife to several more. Two emodo, and an anadi.
"What are you doing?" I exclaimed.
"Quick," said the eperu--a Jokkad I'd worked alongside in the fields. It leaped for me, yelling over its shoulder, "Dleñe, get Hesa!"
I fell over against the edge of a crate, stunned as the corner slammed into my spine. The eperu tried to wrestle me to the floor of the wagon, and we staggered around the obstacles. In ordinary circumstance I would have overpowered it easily, but I did not want to hurt it.
Other Jokka wriggled free of their crates and joined their comrade against me. They bore me down. One of them took my knife.
"We have to silence him," one of them hissed.
"He's a friend!"
"He's the empire's! Do it now, before you get soft! Or do you want to be sent to the end of the road, to haul paving stones until you die?"
They were going to do it. Shocked, I let loose with the claws on my feet and writhed. I caught a blow in my stomach that doubled me over, and then they had my arms trapped behind me. I tried to flail against them, and for my efforts earned my own knife against my chest.
Once. Twice. Again.
We bleed much, but the wounds close quickly. Blood splashed white against my uniform. I was too stunned to cry out.
"STOP!"
I fell onto my side, clutching the rips in my chest, trying not to lose consciousness. The wagon floor creaked beneath me, and then silk rustled as someone crouched alongside my face.
I found strength to speak. "Should I tie my hair back?"
Slim fingers lit on my jaw, bringing with them the familiar smell of sunlight and honey. "What?"
"For the sacrifice," I said hoarsely.
"Void enfold it," Hesa swore bitterly, for it was indeed crouched beside me. It spoke to someone behind me. "Go tell Darsi this is it. We're all leaving. Don't forget the bee eggs. Go!"
Claws clicked against the wagon floor as the Jokka who'd attacked me left. Soon I heard nothing but Hesa's breath. I opened my eyes when it gently rolled me onto my back.
"Are you still bleeding?"
"No," I said. It was leaning over me, dressed for the fetes neither of us had shown to: a scarlet gown of Laisira's own silk embroidered with argent flowers. Its skin shone like polished bone. "Hesa... what... "
It reached past me for the empire’s sickle-knife and tucked the blade into its sash. "We're leaving, Pathen. Laisira is going to the het in the grasslands that everyone's been whispering about. It's not a myth. We've been sending people there since the season began. Full half of the House is gone already."
I stared at it, too weak to sit up.
"And now," Hesa says, "you will ask why. And I will say because the empire is cruel. Because its claws hunt us like prey and drag us bleeding to their master to be punished, enslaved or executed. Because there is no freedom to live or love."
"I was never cruel," I said hoarsely. "I worked your fields. I loaded your cargo. Your dyes stained my arms. I paid sweat to you, Laisira."
"And you watched us," Hesa said, touching my cheek with the backs of its fingers. "Don't lie, Stone Moon. You did not come to us for the good of the House." It took a breath. "We thought it wouldn't be long before you found us out, anyway." A smile flickered over its lips. "Bedding Darsi! I about fell down when you told us that. But the truth is worse. I am running the House, Pathen. Do you understand?"
I closed my eyes, dizzied. Eperu did not run Houses. That was not only against the empire's laws, it was against nature's. And now, looking back on it--Darsi's uncertainy, and then his sudden, stunning competence... Hesa's presence at every bargaining session, and its involvement in every aspect of the het's business... beneath my very eyes, Laisira had committed the worst sin, in the empire or out of it. Hesa had fed me honey and plied me with gifts until my complacency had whelmed my instincts. I'd been right from the moment I saw Darsi and Hesa at the funeral.
"He will kill you," I whispered. "Kill you and enslave your entire House. All your property confiscated. Laisira's name will die."
"Only if he finds out," Hesa said.
I tried to sit up, and couldn't without it steadying me. "Hesa--"
"The entire House is removing itself to these wagons as we speak," Hesa said. "Business will not resume until the summer festival ends. By then we'll be gone. You... you could come with us."
I ignored the softness of its voice on the last words with difficulty. "They'll follow you."
"They won't find us," Hesa said. "There are people waiting to help us scatter, to hide our trail. We'll vanish into the truedark that the Stone Moon can't illumine." It coiled its fingers around the open edges of my tunic, near my throat. "Come with us, Pathen. You don't belong here."
I looked into its plum-fierce eyes.
How many sins had Laisira committed? My rage had always served the empire. It was my duty to see them punished: to remain the hunter. I slid to the ground, weak with conflict.
How many sins had Laisira committed?
How many had I, in my heart?
"Please, ke emodo," Hesa said. Blood-hot Hesa, arguing with its suppliers, magnificent in its passion. Beautiful Hesa, framed in long strands of golden grain, skin glistening with sweat. Fierce, irreplaceable, wonderful Hesa. Who could ever tell it no? I pulled it into my arms, suddenly, fiercely. This time the rage would not use me. This time I would not bow to the empire. It could build its roads without me.
Hesa pressed its forehead against my shoulder, shaking. Laughing? Weeping? It leaned back and pulled my sash from my waist, throwing it off the back of the wagon. It started on my tunic. "We're going to have to find you new clothes."
"Those are the only clothes I have," I protested... but only a little.
"We'll make you new ones," Hesa said. "Black as truedark and blue as midday."
"No moons," I whispered.
It pressed against me, warm as fever. "No moons. Never again." So much said in so few words.
No more hunting. No more prey. No more false dichotomies.
No more lies.
“Hesa,” I breathed. Its fingers traced my mouth.

***

About the author:

M.C.A. Hogarth has been many things--a web database architect, product manager, technical writer and massage therapist--but is currently a parent, artist, writer and anthropologist to aliens.

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