YEAR SIX

THE MASSIVE CART THAT came from the Great High Palace was one of those that filled the width of streets in processions, painted lucky red and silk-draped in yet more red. Head Abbot Sung stood at the top of the stairs and watched its bright, meandering passage up the road that led to the Grand Monastery. The morning fog had long since retreated from the tree-embroidered mountains that formed Chengbee’s backbone, and the light breeze scattered cherry blossom petals around his sandals.

The Head Abbot stood tall, but privately he was glad that the twins were coming to him, instead of the other way around. It was a long way down the mountain, and a long way up to the Great High Palace, and in recent years his knees had begun to hurt during the morning rituals and when thunderstorms were coming. The onset of age was like a dam breaking: slowly at first, then all at once.

Sonami was the first to exit the cart, a graceful figure wrapped in a light silk dress the color of chrysanthemums and jade. She had chosen her gender the same year the twins were born and had grown well into that role. As a young woman of twenty, she had her mother’s height, and the fine features of her face bore more than a passing resemblance to the Protector’s.

Two near-identical children tumbled out of the cart behind her, laden with packs. One landed with their soles a hip’s width apart, fists lightly curled, balancing on the balls of their feet. The child with the mismatched eyes. The other one straightened up and stared at the Head Abbot with an intensity that was unnerving for one so young.

The Head Abbot bowed to them, and Sonami bowed back. “Venerable One,” she said. “Allow me to introduce you to your new charges.”

She touched the first child on their shoulder. “This is Mokoya.” She tapped the second one, whose wide dark eyes remained fixed on the Head Abbot. “And this is Akeha.”

“I welcome you to the Grand Monastery,” the Head Abbot said. “Today you embark on a new journey of learning and discipline.”

The children said nothing. The first child’s face presented a scowl, while the second one didn’t even blink.

“Go on,” Sonami said gently.

A junior monk and nun waited behind the Head Abbot. “Go with them,” he told the children. “They will show you to your rooms.”

The children looked at each other, and the Head Abbot felt something pass between them in the Slack, as though they were communicating. He looked quizzically at Sonami, who only smiled.

The children seemed to come to an agreement, and that agreement was not to put up a fight. Silently and perfunctorily, they trudged after the waiting acolytes.

The first child, the odd-eyed one, took fewer than ten steps before their resolve shattered. They dropped their pack and ran back to Sonami, clutching the fine silk of her dress in their fists.

“Mokoya,” Sonami sighed. She dropped to one knee and took the child’s hands in her own. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Why can’t you come with us?” A tremor belied the stubborn pout in their voice.

“Because I’m going to the Tensorate academy. Today you begin training for monastic life. Head Abbot Sung will take care of you. All right?”

Their face folded up, equal parts rage and grief. Sonami said, “And you have Akeha. You have each other; you won’t be alone.”

The other child walked over and put a hand on their sibling’s shoulder. The first flung themselves at Sonami in a desperate hug.

Sonami held them. “Go on. You know this is what Mother wants.”

The child detached from Sonami’s grasp and took their sibling’s hand. Without a word, they marched, sibling and all, back to where the acolytes waited with the abandoned pack. The Head Abbot had expected tears, but none remained. They did not turn back to look at Sonami again.

The other child pinned the Head Abbot with an intense, baleful gaze as they walked by.

Sonami got to her feet with a sigh and watched the twins go. “They are good children,” she said softly. “Understandably upset about leaving the only home they’ve ever known. But once the pain wears off, they’ll give you no trouble.” With a touch of amusement, she added, “Well, not much trouble, in any case.”

The Head Abbot studied the young woman now standing before him. The two of them had barely spoken in the last five years; the Head Abbot’s messages through the talker network had been gently but firmly rebuffed. He had tried for a long time to divine if this distance was the Protector’s doing or Sonami’s choice, but in the end had concluded that he had to respect and accept it. As with all things in life.

“You raised these children yourself,” he observed.

Sonami nodded.

“I must confess I’m surprised. Did your mother not intend for you to enter the Tensorate before this?”

Sonami smiled slightly. “We agreed that I would do so after the children had been transferred to the Grand Monastery.”

“Such concessions come with a price. What did you promise her in return?”

Her smile did not change as she said, “Grandchildren.”

The Head Abbot swallowed his first response. Into his silence, Sonami interjected, “Of all her daughters, Mother was most interested in my gifts in slackcraft. She thought any children I had would have potential.”

Carefully, he asked, “And this—you are happy with this?”

“It is how it has to be.”

The Head Abbot sighed. Sonami laughed lightly. “Venerable One, I am glad the children will be given to your care. I am confident they will be well taken care of.”

“Is there anything you want to tell me about them?”

Sonami hesitated. He watched intently as her answer percolated through layers and layers of careful thought.

Finally she said, “Do you remember you told me once that there was something different about me, as though the fortunes had embroidered a bright pattern in my soul?”

“I do.” And he had believed it sincerely.

“At that time I dismissed it as flattery, something an old man would say to fool a young child. But . . . I think I understand now.” Sonami frowned. “There’s something about these children that’s different. I don’t know what it is. One of them . . .” The Head Abbot frowned, and Sonami shrugged. “I don’t want to say too much. You will see for yourself. But I am glad that you will be directing their destinies, instead of Mother.”

“I see.”

“Trust in the fortunes,” Sonami said. “They will guide you well.”