“And we can’t just ring each other up,” Eli added.
They were both painfully right. Collapsed corridors and blocked-off paths were surely in their way. VIFAI could simply suggest another, more optimal path, but the other group would have to rely on their wits instead.
“We’ll still have the map,” Yan said, matter-of-factly. “We’ll simply follow a different line. The first goal is to stay as far away from the other group so whoever is watching us won’t be able to hit both groups at the same time. The second goal is to get to our rendezvous point in two and a half days. We’ll have access to water on our way, but I can’t predict what the food situation will be like. I don’t want us walking around too long.” He sounded convinced with his own plan.
If Iris had focused only on the content of Yan’s speech, he would have missed the faint tremble in the engineer’s voice.It wasalmostnegligible, but having spent many months in isolation retreats during his Vessel training, Iris had become sensitised to the micro-inflections in people’s voices. He had learned to study them as musicians study music or architects the curve of an arch. There was a science to it, a mathematical precision. Iris hoped no one else was as particular as he was.
It was decided then that they would spend the final night where they were, eat and drink as much as they could, and set off in ten hours. After Eli started a small fire by the console, they threw in the remaining potatoes and some squash into the embers and waited for them to cook. Ishtan boiled some water he collected from the surrounding moss and made tea. After the haphazardly assembled dinner, Tev and Jesi quickly drifted off to sleep by the glowing flames. A little ways off, Eli was explaining to Ishtan how to properly fire Ordan’s pistol. “Respectfully,” Yan nodded to Eli and the gun, “I’d feel safer if this went to someone with a faster reaction time.”
Iris watched as Yan took the gun into his own hands, twisted it around, and returned it to Eli with a sour face. “I don’t like these things. Too loud. Too final.” He turned to Ishtan. “You don’t mind, do you? I think Tev would do much better with it.”
There was a strained silence.
“I can assure you—” Ishtan started, but Yan placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“We’re well past an honour system. We’ve known each other for how long? Oh, five years. I know you’re responsible, Ishtan. I also know you get nervous, and you get into your own head. You think too much. Better someone who will fire first and think of consequences later.”
Iris firmly disagreed, but he remained silent, seated by the crackling fire. This wasn’t his place nor his people.
“I can handle a simple gun, Yan.”
Yan took the gun into his hands again and shook his head. “I know you like debates, old man, but now isn’t the time.” Ishtan pursed his lips beneath his beard. “I’ll risk your feelings for the safety of the group. You understand.”
Begrudgingly, Ishtan nodded. His eyes followed Yan as he walked to Tev and shook the boy awake by his shoulder. Iris couldn’t make out his words, but he was sure Eli would be teaching Tev next, how to shoot without thinking first, how not to feel bad if he hit something.
Like Yan, Iris was wary of firearms. He had yet to witness good come from a discharged gun. Guns were a simple tool of death. They created distance, relieving the shooter from the nasty work of feeling their target pass. They were an irresponsible tool, one that Iris wished they could do away with entirely. Aboard spaceships, they were especially dangerous. Each bullet was another chance to puncture the hull and doom them all. Not something of concern aboard theNicaeawith her impenetrable walls, but a concern, nonetheless. Guns. As if their situation wasn’t dire enough.
Iris was softly muttering his mantras and passing the mala through his fingers when Yan came to rest by his side, a respectable distance between their tired bodies.
“Seems you got your head back on straight, Vessel. Glad to see it.”
Iris nodded lightly. He wouldn’t spoil the fragile mood with his thoughts on firearms and their mistaken utility. “I’ve been neglecting my practice, with everything that’s happened. It’s so simple to maintain it when I’m back at the temple. It’s such aserene and fertile environment. Takes much more dedication to do it here.”
“I bet,” Yan snorted. “What with all the murders and the killer plants.”
Iris rewarded the engineer with a polite smile. “I never got to thank you for bringing me food after I was injured. That was very kind of you.” It was a difficult topic to breach, but the chance was there, and there was no guarantee they would ever meet again. While Iris still nursed the futile hope they would escape theNicaea, his more rational side leaned towards an outcome where both engineer and monk would meet their demise somewhere along the twisted corridors. No one would come for them. The thought was somewhat distressing.
Yan hummed affirmatively and said nothing.
“I also never thanked you properly for tending to my injuries. That too was very kind of you, engineer Yan. I understand it was a difficult task.” That was an even tougher topic to breach, and Iris had almost talked himself out of it minutes prior while staring into the fire and pretending to be engrossed in his mantras.
When he looked over at Yan, puzzled by his silence, he found the engineer asleep, still upright. Even unconscious, Yan’s eyebrows were knotted together in worry. Iris caught himself fixating on a single spot along Yan’s neck that pulsed lazily to his heartbeat. He felt his own heart matching the rhythm without any effort.
But any thoughts on this matter were dangerous, and Iris stifled them before they got away from him. The distance he cultivated between himself and others was there for a reason, just as much for his well-being as it was for others’. All of this—the warm calm that spread through him when he was in Yan’s vicinity, the urge to impress the engineer—all of it wasjust youthful longings, something that had been long left in the past.
Slowly, Iris reached out and caught the edge of Yan’s tattered sleeve between his index and middle fingers. This was as close as he’d let himself get, as close as he’d tread the boundary without overstepping.
“Please,” he whispered, careful not to wake Yan, “be careful.”
11
If kindness and virtue are written on the face, then mine is the face of a fox, sly and dark. If kindness and virtue are written on the body, then mine is the body tainted by fire, speckled like a snake’s belly.
No matter if I kneel, no matter if I praise, no matter if I chant,
I cannot change my face. I cannot change my body.
O, Light, do you mean I cannot change myself?
