Akeha put their empty cup of tea on the floor and watched as Mokoya twisted into a coil of anxiety. “I’m not joking!”
The deep rumble of the boy’s laugh was like a thunderstorm in the distance, which could sound comforting to some and be a warning to others. “Well, I was. I’m sorry.”
Akeha studied the way the boy looked at Mokoya, an alien and gentle expression on his face. Was this what tenderness looked like?
Mokoya, completely oblivious, had their hands in their lap, staring down at the lightly curled fingers. “It’s best if we don’t interfere with the prophecies. Nothing good has ever come of trying to change them.”
Thennjay frowned. “Then why did you come here? To warn me?”
“I . . .” Akeha could almost feel Mokoya turning the question over in their mind, slowly and carefully, like a grilled fish. “I was curious about you. Wouldn’t you do the same thing, in my position?”
“I suppose.”
Thennjay folded his hands together, mirroring Mokoya’s pose, seguing into contemplative silence. Eventually, his gaze fell on Akeha. “You don’t say much, do you?”
Akeha stared evenly back at him. “No.”
The moment of silence stretched. Mokoya broke in: “This news must come as a shock to you.”
Thennjay chuckled and sighed, and for the briefest moment, Akeha caught a glimpse of darkness lurking under the bright, easygoing exterior. “It is what it is. As you said, there’s nothing we can do to change it, can we?”
“In the monastery,” Mokoya said, “they taught us that fortune is both intractable and impartial. That when bad things happen, it’s the result of an incomprehensible and inhuman universe working as it does. The mountain shrugs, but thinks nothing of the houses crushed in the avalanche. That was not its purpose.”
“And that’s meant to be comforting?”
“Yes,” said Mokoya, a little too earnestly. “Because it’s not about you, or what you’ve done. There’s no bigger reason to things.”
Thennjay stared at the heavy canvas ceiling in contemplation. Then he said, “Growing up, I was taught to believe that the fortunes don’t give you more than you can handle. It was a mantra, almost. Something bad happens? Well, you can handle it, because otherwise why would it have happened? I think it was the only way people could cope with the things that went on, sometimes.”
“You don’t sound like you agree.”
He looked in the direction of the tent door. Heartbeats passed. “You saw Anjal and Kirpa,” he said. The suspicious children outside. “They’re six and four. Think about that, six and four. Their parents died in that factory fire. They don’t have surviving close relatives. No grandparents, no aunts or uncles. A cousin is looking after them, but he’s got hungry children of his own to feed. I ask you: Can you believe, really believe, that they’re supposed to have the strength to cope with that?” He shook his head. “My personal belief? I don’t care about the fortunes. I care about doing whatever you can, with whatever’s in front of you. Because it’s the only thing you can do.”
Mokoya stared at him with a mixture of joy and disbelief, like he was some sort of miracle. “That’s beautiful.”
A feeling like a fist pressed against Akeha’s sternum.
Thennjay turned to Akeha. “And you, what do you believe?”
Akeha leaned back, balancing on their tailbone and clenched hands. “Why do my beliefs matter? I’m not a prophet or a future abbot.”
Mokoya swung around with a furious glare. Keha, what?
Akeha barely blinked. We’ve been gone a long time. There’s going to be trouble.
Mokoya’s nostrils flared. But of course Akeha was right. They turned back to Thennjay, defeated. “We need to go. We sneaked out of the Great High Palace, and Mother isn’t going to be pleased.”
“Starting my career in the disfavor of the Protector? That sounds dangerous.” The boy got to his feet, and offered a hand to Mokoya. After a brief moment of hesitation, they took it.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” Mokoya said. “What steps Mother is going to take, or the Grand Monastery. Once word spreads, people are going to start coming to see you. I’m sure of it.”
He would be the most unqualified candidate for Head Abbot in the history of the Grand Monastery, Akeha thought uncharitably. Could he even perform basic slackcraft?
“We’ll cross that valley when we reach its borders,” Thennjay said. He still hadn’t let go of Mokoya’s hand.
Mokoya wasn’t pulling away, either. They were staring up at Thennjay, at his face, at his broad-shouldered bulk.
“If you could stand to escape the palace again,” Thennjay said, “you should come to the circus tonight. We put on quite a show, and it’s only five brass tals per entry.”
“I . . .” Mokoya lowered their hand slowly as Thennjay released it. “I’ll try. It’s not easy to leave the Palace without being noticed.”
Thennjay smiled, an expression radiant as a firework. The two of them were standing so close to each other their bodies nearly touched. The boy said, “I have a feeling we’ll meet again soon, my dear prophet.”
*
Akeha’s feet kicked up dust as they cut through the rumbling guts of Chengbee. The aftertaste of ginger tea clung pungent and sticky as glue to their tongue and mouth. Mokoya might have felt the same way, all wrapped up in a thick, woolly layer of thought. Akeha watched the back of their head, the black peach fuzz emerging from it, and thought about the long years they’d spent shaving their heads like they were still acolytes, so that they could appear identical.
They conjured an image of what Mokoya might look like as a woman, silk-draped and pigment-smeared, hair wrapped into unnatural shapes. This woman, this stranger, laughed with painted lips and clung to the arm of the tall, handsome man who smiled approvingly down at her. She made trite jokes and used the feminine version of “I.” Akeha tried to imagine themselves in the same role: an alien form, making alien gestures. Their chest liquefied into molten ore.
“So,” they said to their twin’s silhouette, “is that why you want to be confirmed? So you can go around flirting with boys?”
Mokoya turned around, eyes as round as dumplings. “What?”
Akeha knew it was a bad idea, but continued talking anyway. “Come on. You saw the way he looked at you, didn’t you?”
“What is wrong with you?” Mokoya hissed. They stormed a furious clutch of paces ahead, then slowed for Akeha to catch up. “You can be angry with me, but leave him out of it. He’s got nothing to do with . . . whatever your problem is.”
“He likes you.”
“And you don’t like him.”
Akeha shrugged. “I don’t have to. He’s going to be the Head Abbot, not my new best friend.” They snorted. “Unless I have to contend with him as a future brother-in-law?”
Mokoya’s impenetrable silence only deepened as they turned away and continued walking. Furious. “You’re going to the circus tonight, aren’t you?” Akeha asked.
Their twin squared their shoulders, squared their jaw. “Fine. I am. I like him. I think he’s important. You,” they added acidly, “don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
Chapter Eight